


wild things

by sevensevan



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges Pre-Canon, F/F, Mutual Pining, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, That's pretty much all it is, area teens discover refined sugar, background spinnetossa bc they're my moms, catra and adora being gay in the woods, i promise it ends happily just trust me here, now with bonus sadness!, this has been dubbed kebab au by the discord server, working title: being gay in the woods, you'll know it when you read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24780310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: Catra points her face towards the sky and lets out a scream of victory.If this is the worst the Whispering Woods can throw at her—the Whispering Woods that have held the Horde back from victory for years—then Catra is stronger than anyone has ever given her credit for.(Shadow Weaver sends Catra into the woods to die. Catra doesn't.)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 133
Kudos: 1077





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm bad at writing action scenes, dialogue is my strong suit
> 
> me:
> 
> me: what if i made a whole chapter of action scenes
> 
> it's the feral woods children au that i've been talking about on tumblr lately asjdhgsakjg. for context, adora and catra are around 13 here. this whole au is basically just an excuse to have catra and adora Not be around shadow weaver while growing up and falling in love. this chapter is more or less a prologue to set up the au, and thus is not one of my favorite things i've ever written, but the chapters will get better i promise. hope you enjoy.

“What?” Adora asks. Her heart stops in her chest. “ _What_? You sent Catra—you—“

“Don’t be dramatic, Adora,” Shadow Weaver says, barely looking away from the file she’s examining. “Catra’s location is none of your concern.”

“You sent her to the _Whispering Woods_ ,” Adora says. “Almost no one comes out of there alive!”

“And if Catra is nearly as talented or valuable as you seem to think she is, it will take more than a camping trip to kill her,” Shadow Weaver says. She looks up from the file, the blank eyes of her mask fixating on Adora. “Catra will be fine,” she says. “Or she won’t be. Either way, it will be of no consequence to you. She has only ever held you back.”

“What did I _do_?” Adora says, desperate. Shadow Weaver is already back to her papers, ignoring Adora. “What did I do to make you send Catra away?”

“What did _you_ do?” Shadow Weaver asks. “You didn’t do anything. Catra made her own mistakes, and she is paying for them. It has nothing to do with you, Adora. You’re excelling even my expectations.” Adora knows that isn’t right. She _knows_ that every time she screws up, the punishment comes down on Catra. But she hasn’t done anything this time; she hasn’t missed a class in months, she’s scored the best in the squadron on practically every test they’ve had for over a year, she’s put in extra hours with the younger cadets. She hasn’t done anything wrong.

“When did you—“ Adora can’t even get the words out. “How long has it been?” Catra’s been gone all day, but that’s not unusual for her. It had been her absence at dinner that made Adora realize something is wrong.

“She was dropped in the forest this morning,” Shadow Weaver says. “If she survives, she should find her way back in a day or two.” With an exasperated sigh, she looks up from her papers again. “Will that be all, Adora?”

“You—“ Adora is shaking. “She—“ She curls her hands into fists. “Catra could _die_ ,” she says, because it doesn’t seem like Shadow Weaver _understands_ that. “The Whispering Woods are—there’s nothing _human_ in there! They’re full of deadly monsters.”

“Well, then,” Shadow Weaver says, “Catra will be right at home, will she not?”

* * *

Catra stalks her prey all the way up a tree.

It’s a kind of animal she’s never seen before, which isn’t surprising—the Whispering Woods and the Fright Zone don’t have a lot of ecological crossover. It reminds her a little of the giant rats that live in the Fright Zone’s lower levels, but it has a bushy tail, and can run straight up the sides of trees. When Catra first loses sight of the creature, she thinks she’s lost her dinner. It shoots up the tree faster than an energy cannon and disappears into the leaves.

Then something strange happens. Catra takes a deep breath, trying to calm her frustration, and catches a whiff of the animal’s scent. Normally, smells don’t affect her. She’s gotten used to the reek of fuel and rot that permeates the Fright Zone, and the only scent she ever even notices is Adora’s, but this…it triggers something in her, something instinctual, and the pads of her feet begin to itch.

Moving on instinct, Catra steps silently to the tree next to the one her dinner had climbed. She scales it easily, her claws finding gaps in the bark, and slips into the highest branches within moments. The animal’s scent is coming from off to her left. She crawls out across a branch that extends towards the source of the scent, staying on all fours and barely making a sound. Years of scaling random towers in the Fright Zone have finally paid off—her balance is flawless. She sees the animal again, sitting on a branch on the other tree, maybe ten feet away.

Catra pounces.

She closes the gap between herself and her prey in less than a second. It’s only starting to turn and see her when one of her hands closes around its neck. Her claws dig in immediately and slit its throat. Catra doesn’t quite land on the branch, and she’s falling for a terrifying millisecond before her free hand wraps around it. She catches herself easily and looks down.

She’s dangling at least forty feet off the ground, hanging from a tree by one hand while the other clutches her conquered prey. Blood is dripping from the animal’s body, soaking into her palm. The forest floor is far below her, barely visible through a mess of branches and leaves. The fall likely wouldn’t kill her if she let go, but the broken limbs eventually would.

Catra has never felt so exhilarated in her life. She’s laughing as she climbs back up onto the branch and leaps higher and higher into the tree. She picks a branch up at the top and walks to the end of it like she’s walking on solid ground, not even looking where she’s going. She sits down on the end of the branch and looks out across the woods spread out beneath her. She can’t even see the Fright Zone from here. The only thing around from horizon to horizon is forest. Forest with no other creatures as intelligent or skilled as Catra, forest teeming with prey, forest without Shadow Weaver or Hordak or the other cadets who bully Catra.

Out here, _Catra_ holds all of the power.

She skins and eats the small animal raw. In Horde survival classes, they were always told that raw meat could kill a human, that it was better to go hungry. Of course, Catra’s not all human, and the same instincts that showed her how to catch her dinner show her how to skin it with her claws and tear pieces from it with her fangs.

It’s the best thing Catra’s ever eaten in her life.

The moons are shifting in the sky. It’s drifting towards nightfall, and Catra needs to find shelter. The adrenaline of the hunt is wearing off. She’s tired, and she isn’t sure what will come out of the forest in the night, but she’d rather not be ambushed in her sleep. She descends from the tree easily, jumping from branch to branch and taking the last fifteen feet to the ground in one leap. A few birds fly out of nearby bushes, fleeing from Catra’s sudden appearance.

Catra walks through the woods for awhile, stopping at a stream she passes to drink and wash her face and hands clean of blood. She isn’t sure what she’s looking for—a cave, a hollow tree, somewhere she can curl up and sleep. If it comes down to it, she can sleep in a tree, but she’s not sure she trusts herself to stay balanced in her sleep. She’s restless at night, and she’d rather not wake up halfway to splattering across the ground.

There’s a rustling in the bushes behind her. Catra turns. She can’t see anything, but the leaves are still shaking. She stares at them for a moment, waiting, but nothing appears. She turns back to her path, but keeps listening closely. Sure enough, only moments later, there’s another rustle—louder this time. Catra steps sideways into the trees, ducking behind one and looking out around the edge. Within a minute, something steps into view.

It’s some kind of insect—too many legs and eyes to be anything else—but it’s _giant_. It’s bigger than a Horde tank, even, its legs as tall as Catra herself. She inhales sharply, cold fear running down her spine. The insect’s antennae sway back and forth in the air, and Catra holds her breath, hoping it doesn’t notice her.

It does.

The insect turns to face her, emitting a low rumbling noise, and Catra takes off into the trees. She’s always been fast—speed is the one thing she outscores Adora in without fail—but the thing behind her is faster. The ground shakes beneath Catra’s feet as it chases her. She pushes herself harder, darting between the trees as she flies forward, but still, the insect gains ground. Finally, desperately, Catra leaps upwards, grabbing for a low-hanging tree branch. She just barely catches it and immediately scrambles upwards, out of reach of the insect’s reaching pincers.

Catra practically collapses on top of the branch, panting for breath. The insect stays where it is, waiting at the bottom of the tree trunk. Its compound eyes glisten in the moonlight, and its antennae sway slowly, patiently.

“You’re not leaving, are you,” Catra says. The insect, of course, does not respond. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” Catra catches her breath as she decides what to do. The smart thing would be to run. The insect can’t follow her up the tree, or at least, it doesn’t seem to want to. Catra could easily escape by jumping between the trees. The creature would lose her quickly from the ground, and she could go back to looking for shelter.

But Catra doesn’t _want_ to do that. The insect may be bigger and faster than her, but Catra is tired of running from fights. She did that enough in the Horde, running from Shadow Weaver, from Lonnie, from Octavia—always running, either to hide in a corner or to Adora for help. But Adora isn’t out here, and if Catra wants the corners of the woods, she’ll have to win them herself.

Catra stands up on the branch. The insect hisses from the ground. Catra ignores it, instead leaping from her branch to one on the tree beside her. The insect turns slightly, watching her, so Catra climbs higher, into the thinner branches that tremble beneath her weight. Still, the insect seems to track her even as she slips out of sight, staying right beneath the tree she’s in and hissing quietly. Catra thinks for a moment before snapping off the end of a small branch beside her. She tosses it to the ground behind the insect. It rustles the leaves as it falls, and hits the ground with a quiet thump. The insect turns slowly towards the distraction, its sheer size making the move sluggish, and Catra takes the opportunity to pounce.

She jumps from the tree and lands feet-first on one of the insect’s eyes. It hisses in pain and flails beneath her, but she digs her claws in. Its pincers can’t reach her back here. As long as she stays on top of the thing, she’s safe. Catra crouches down, unsheathes the claws on her fingers, and rips a gash into the bug’s eye. Its hissing turns into a screech, one that feels like a knife in Catra’s ears, but she doesn’t let go. She rakes her claws over the wound again, digging deeper. The insect bucks, and Catra slides back, claws scrabbling over its exoskeleton, before she finds a gap and latches on. She hooks her claws beneath one of the plates of armor and _pulls_ with every bit of strength she can muster.

The insect howls as its shell is pulled up, ripped away from the soft body beneath. Catra releases the exoskeleton and goes for the flesh. It’s not like the skin of an animal. It doesn’t bleed when Catra tears it apart, but rather moves beneath her, almost gelatinous. She rips through it easily, digging a hole straight into the monster’s back until it gives one final screech and collapses onto the earth.

Catra lashes out a few more times before climbing back out of the hole she’s dug. The insect is completely dead, its antennae limp and still. Catra stands up on the dead creature’s back and follows yet another instinct. She points her face towards the sky and lets out a scream of victory.

If _this_ is the worst the Whispering Woods can throw at her—the Whispering Woods that have held the Horde back from victory for _years—_ then Catra is stronger than anyone has ever given her credit for.

* * *

Catra had taught Adora how to pick pockets years ago—not because Adora had really wanted to learn, but because Catra had wanted to show off and Adora wasn’t one to say no to her. It had, inevitably, eventually gotten them in trouble, but Adora remembers the skills. Bump into someone, make it seem like an accident, take something lightweight and small.

She utilized them to steal a skiff key from a Force Captain this morning.

With a careful glance around the room, Adora steps into the skiff bay. The guards will circle back here in less than two minutes. She needs to be quick. The keys are universal, so at least she doesn’t have to worry about finding the right skiff. Instead, she just climbs up onto the closest one and turns it on. It roars to life beneath her, unbearably loud in the silent room. The guards will be back any second now. Adora adjusts the straps on her backpack and grabs the rudder, easing the skiff out of its bay.

By the time the guards return to the room, there’s no trace of Adora or the missing skiff.

She can see the Whispering Woods on the horizon. They loom in the distance as they always have, a constant source of unease for Horde cadets. Adora grew up on stories about the monsters in the woods. Soldiers do survive them, sometimes, but they always come back _different_ , damaged somehow. The woods are the Rebellion’s greatest defense, hundreds of square miles of unnavigable deathtraps and inhospitable land.

Adora points the skiff straight at the trees and accelerates. The wind whips at her hair and chills her skin, making her shiver as she flies. The woods get closer rapidly, but not quickly enough that Adora doesn’t have time to think.

It’s been six days since Catra disappeared. Since Shadow Weaver sent her away. After the first two days, Adora had started asking Shadow Weaver to send a mission in after her, to send _Adora_ in after her, if no one else. As the days went by, Adora had become more and more anxious—and Shadow Weaver had become more dismissive. Earlier today, Adora had gone to her and asked again to be sent out after Catra. Shadow Weaver had told her that if Adora brought up Catra one more time, she’d be reprimanded for it.

So Adora decided to find Catra herself, with or without orders. If Shadow Weaver wants to punish her when they get back to the Fright Zone, Adora will take it gladly, if it means Catra is home and safe.

Adora slows down once she hits the trees. She’s never driven a skiff for real before, only in simulations, and the forest is thick. She’d rather take an extra few hours finding Catra than die at thirteen by smacking into a tree.

It’s dark in the forest. The canopy of leaves and branches above her block out the moonlight, and her eyes can’t adjust to the darkness. She slows the skiff to a crawl, inching through the woods barely faster than she could walk. She could fly right over Catra and not even notice in this light.

Adora is trying to figure out what to do next when something behind her growls.

With a yelp, Adora automatically yanks on the rudder, sending the skiff flying forwards. Her heart jumps as a thick branch comes flying at her face, and she pulls the rudder back and forth, weaving between trees the size of buildings, barely dodging them. It’s too fast, she’s going too fast, but the woods are full of monsters, and now one of them knows she’s here. She has to get _away_. She squints against the wind, trying to discourage the tears forming in her eyes, but they form all the same, and she’s forced to blink.

When she opens her eyes again, she’s airborne.

Adora flails for a moment before her training kicks in. In a millisecond, she takes stock of the situation. She isn’t on the skiff anymore; it’s been ripped out from underneath her. She’s spinning, falling, and the ground is coming up to meet her. She tries to get her feet under her, but her momentum is still turning, and she lands hard on her back, skidding across the ground.

Adora stares up at the moons, every limb frozen to the ground. She can’t breathe. She can’t _move_. For a moment, she wonders if she’s dead. Then her aching lungs kick into gear, and she sucks in a shallow breath. Not dead yet, but her battered ribs howl in protest as her lungs press against them.

Adora pushes herself up on her palms, looking back at where she had crashed, and her heart stops in her chest.

There’s—some kind of…Adora doesn’t have the words. There’s a _shape_ , shining in the moonlight, made of bone-white plates of armor and soulless, compound eyes. So many _eyes_.

Adora jumps to her feet and starts to stumble away, fighting to breathe as her legs shake underneath her. She only makes it a few steps before something tugs on her back, lifting her up into the air. Her legs kick uselessly against the air. She writhes, turning, trying to see what she’s caught on.

The monster has hooked one of its pincers through her backpack and picked her up. It stares at her, all of its eyes unmoving yet somehow fixed on Adora. She screams. The monster doesn’t acknowledge the sound. It just lifts her higher and pulls her closer to its mouth.

Adora pulls her arms out of the backpack straps and drops a dozen feet to the ground. She’s ready for the landing, this time, but it still hurts, bringing fresh pain to the aches from her first fall. She doesn’t let it slow her down. She runs straight at the monster, aiming for the space between its body and the ground. It’s just tall enough for Adora to slip underneath.

The monster seems surprised by the sudden disappearance of its prey, and Adora gets under its body before it can grab her again. She pours on the speed, limping into the trees as fast as her injured body can carry her. Behind her, the monster makes a high-pitched screeching noise, and branches snap loudly as it begins to give chase.

Adora keeps running. She hasn’t been this scared in her whole life. She’s going to die out here, surely. She’ll die out here, and Catra will never find her way back home—if she isn’t already dead, too.

That thought makes Adora tear up, and she grits her teeth, finding a bit more strength somewhere inside herself to go faster. She _can’t_ die. She has to find Catra. Catra has to know that Adora is looking for her. Adora won’t die until Catra knows that she wasn’t abandoned out here.

Adora shoots out of the forest and onto a riverbank. She barely stops herself from stumbling into the water. She can’t afford to get wet; it’s cold out here. Wet clothes could kill her.

Behind her, the monster emerges from the forest, the ground shaking beneath it. Adora takes a half-step backwards, and finds herself perched on the edge of the riverbank. The monster hisses and raises its pincers. Adora hesitates for one more moment, then turns and leaps into the water.

It’s freezing cold. It hits her body like a wave of Shadow Weaver’s black lightning, and for a moment, Adora is gasping for breath again. She flails her arms uselessly, forgetting her swimming lessons as the sluggish current starts to pull on her limbs. The monster stays on the bank, watching Adora drift away and hissing angrily. _It doesn’t like the water_.

That gives Adora an idea. She starts to move her limbs with purpose, swimming towards the opposite bank of the river. If she can put the body of water between herself and the monster, she’ll be safe—or at least, whatever passes for safe in the Whispering Woods.

Her body doesn’t want to help her. Her limbs are sluggish and weak, and her lungs batter against her ribcage with every breath. But after an eternity, Adora reaches the opposite bank and uses the last of her strength to pull her body out of the water. She crawls a few feet on her hands and knees before collapsing against a tree trunk, keeled over.

Adora has never been this cold in her life. Her shivers feel more like whole-body spasms. Fruitlessly, she curls up into a ball, but doing so only serves to press her freezing, soaked-through legs against her freezing, soaked-through chest.

Lying there, on the ground, Adora starts to cry. She escaped the monster, but she’s going to freeze to death before morning. And even if she doesn’t, the woods are _huge_. She’ll never find Catra. If Adora survives the journey back to the Fright Zone alone, she’ll be _alone_ there. She’ll be alone forever.

Leaves rustle nearby. Adora can’t even work up the energy to open her eyes and see what’s coming to kill her. The rustling approaches, then stops next to Adora’s prone body. There’s a long pause, in which Adora waits for the killing blow to come. It doesn’t.

Instead, a familiar voice says, “Adora?” Adora’s eyes fly open, and she tips her head to the side, squinting up through the darkness for the source. “What the hell are you doing here?” the voice asks. Adora’s eyes finally focus, and she smiles.

“Catra,” she says, and the world goes black.

* * *

“If I’m to understand this correctly,” Hordak says, eyes narrowing. “You abandoned a cadet in the woods, then failed to prevent another from escaping and giving chase? And now, you want to waste our resources on sending a squad to find a couple of children who are likely dead already?”

“We _need_ Adora,” Shadow Weaver says. “She has power. I’m not certain of its nature yet, but—“

“Do not waste my time.” Hordak stands from his throne and descends the steps, pausing towards the bottom. He remains high enough to be several inches taller than Shadow Weaver, which makes her grit her teeth behind her mask. _Hordak and his absurd power plays_. As if he would be capable of _anything_ without her. “You sent the children out to die. You can bring them back.”

“I cannot go that far from the runestone,” Shadow Weaver says. “Not for long enough to find them.”

“Scry for them, then,” Hordak says, sounding bored. “Must I spell out _everything_ for you, Shadow Weaver?”

“I _tried_ that,” she says. “The magic of the woods is hiding them from me.”

“Or perhaps,” Hordak says, “they’re simply dead.” He turns away and ascends the stairs, returning to his throne. “Find them or don’t,” he says as he retakes his seat. “Two cadets make no difference to me. But do not waste Horde resources on your pet project. You’re dismissed.” Shadow Weaver turns and leaves the room, barely restraining a growl.

_Scry for them_. As if she hadn’t spent the _entire night_ doing just that and seen nothing but darkness and flashes of leaves. The Whispering Woods are full of magic; searching for Adora’s latent power in an entire ecosystem of light magic is worse than useless. As for Catra—well, she has no power, and if she did, Shadow Weaver wouldn’t waste her time looking for it. She’s certainly already dead.

No, it’s Adora who still has a chance, and it’s _Adora_ that matters. And it was with Adora that Shadow Weaver had miscalculated. She hadn’t thought…she believed that Catra and Adora had a silly, meaningless friendship, one that was bound to fall apart as soon as Adora began to realize her potential. If Shadow Weaver had thought it was anything more than that—well, she probably still would’ve sent Catra to the woods. Catra was such an _infuriating_ child. But she wouldn’t have been so _flippant_ about it.

The moment Shadow Weaver slips back into the Black Garnet Chamber, she rips her mask from her face with an angry hiss and throws it across the room. She can’t risk disobeying Hordak by sending Horde troops to look for Adora, and she can’t go herself. Her best chance would be to send a group of cadets, but none of them are loyal enough to her to follow that kind of order without question. Adora had been the only one loyal enough to Shadow Weaver to do something like that.

And now Adora—loyal, foolish, _powerful_ Adora—is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> upon further examination i'm realizing that this fic is heavily inspired by the fact that i spent most of my middle school years running through the woods and stick-fighting with my best friend who i had a years-long, weirdly homoerotic relationship with. but, y'know, projection is two-thirds of art.
> 
> i'm trying real hard to finish this fic before i start nanowrimo in july which means updates will either be very fast or it will go on a month long hiatus soon. wish me luck i guess?

Adora’s shivering keeps Catra awake for most of the night.

After finding her on the ground, soaked through and spasming with cold, Catra had watched as Adora passed out. For a moment, she thought Adora had just died in front of her. But Adora had continued to shiver, and Catra had acted quickly, partially on instinct and partially on half-remembered survival skills.

_Body heat_. Catra had laid down beside Adora and wrapped her arms around her, pulling her as close as she could. They haven’t slept side-by-side in awhile. Catra had started sleeping at Adora’s feet instead after Lonnie had made fun of her, saying Catra had a _crush_ on Adora. Catra isn’t totally sure what that means, but it sounded bad enough to make Catra stop falling asleep next to her best friend. Catra had missed cuddling with Adora, but she hadn’t wanted to do it again like _this_.

Even in the early morning light, Adora’s skin is still freezing against Catra’s fur. Catra had dozed fitfully, waking up every time there was a lull in Adora’s breathing to make sure she was still alive. Now, though, despite still being damp and cold, Adora’s breathing is even, and she’s only shaking slightly in her sleep. Catra stays where she is, holding Adora tightly to her chest, until the day moons inch a bit higher in the sky and Adora’s shivers stop completely.

“You’re such an idiot,” Catra whispers into Adora’s hair. Adora doesn’t respond. Catra finally peels her body away from Adora’s and sits up. She gives herself a shake, trying to rid her fur of the lingering damp from Adora’s clothes, but she isn’t successful. “And I’m mad at you,” Catra adds to Adora’s motionless form. “You know I hate water.” Adora seems like she’ll probably sleep for awhile longer, so instead of focusing on her, Catra rubs at her eyes and tries to fully wake up.

Normally, she lazes around until the day moons are at their peak in the sky, then kills lunch, takes a nap, and hunts for dinner at dusk. She doubts Adora—who has never risen later than the earliest possible time they’re allowed to leave their bunks in her life—would appreciate that schedule. Besides, Catra will have to figure out a way to _cook_ whatever she catches for breakfast, since Adora is human, so she might as well get an early start.

Catra climbs up into the trees. Climbing already came naturally to her, but over the past week, it had become a way of life. She primarily travels in the uppermost branches, avoiding the confusing terrain and giant insect monsters on the ground. She catches her food in the middle layers, where bushy-tailed rodents and large birds live. She even sleeps in the lower branches, having grown bored of her search for ground shelter within an hour that first night. It was too cold and windy to sleep in the tops of the trees, but down in the forest, her fur keeps her warm, and the animals of the woods are too afraid of her to bother her while she sleeps.

Catra catches a few of the rat-like creatures within half an hour. She carries them by their tails as she starts to head back to the tree she left Adora sleeping under, automatically retracing her steps. She’s rapidly become an expert at navigating her little corner of the woods, so it’s easy enough to climb and leap on autopilot while she tries to figure out how to cook one of the animals for Adora. The obvious (and only) answer is fire, but Catra has no idea how to start one. Dry wood and friction is all she remembers from her survival skills classes, and she only knows how to get one of those.

Reluctantly, Catra returns to the forest floor to gather some sticks. She can figure out the friction bit later.

* * *

“ _Damn_.” The loud cursing pulls Adora abruptly back into the real world. She blinks her eyes open, squinting in confusion at the sight in front of her. Instead of the far wall of the barracks, she sees a patch of long grass and a bush.

And she’s _cold_.

With a quiet groan at the chill and the lingering ache in her ribs, Adora rolls onto her back. The sight above her doesn’t make much sense, either: just trees, all the way up, with a tiny patch of sky peeking through.

“She wakes,” a familiar, sarcastic voice says. Adora looks over at Catra, and that much, at least, makes perfect sense. Waking up to Catra again, after a week of waking up without her, stirs something familiar in Adora’s chest.

“Catra,” Adora says. She rubs at her eyes. “What…” A gentle breeze picks up, rustling the tree branches above her. The leaves whisper as they rub together, and Adora remembers. “You’re still alive,” she says, and her eyes immediately flood with tears. She rolls up onto her knees, ignoring the way her battered body protests, and throws herself across the space between them to wrap her arms around Catra.

“Aw, you were worried about me,” Catra says, a laugh in her voice. “Cute.” She returns the hug, and it’s a long few moments before Adora is ready to let go. “Seriously, though,” Catra says after Adora has remembered the existence of personal space. “I should be surprised _you’re_ still alive. You were pretty much an icicle by the time I found you.” That reminds Adora how cold she is, and she starts to shiver. Catra notices and rolls her eyes. “I’ll get the fire going in a minute,” she says, looking down to her left. Adora’s gaze follows, and she barely restrains a laugh at the sight of Catra determinedly rubbing two sticks together over a haphazard pile of dry moss and kindling.

“Do you remember _anything_ from survival classes?” Adora asks, moving over to Catra’s side and taking the sticks from her. She fits one into a notch on a particularly flat piece of wood and begins to spin it between her palms. “Is that why it’s taking you so long to get back? Forgot which moon points east?” Catra hesitates a few seconds before responding.

“No, I just didn’t feel like going back yet,” she says. “I figured I’d teach Shadow Weaver a lesson. Let her think I’m dead so she feels bad for sending me out here.” Catra grins. “And it worked, huh? She sent you out to find me.” Adora’s chest tightens painfully. She isn’t sure why, exactly, but something in the way Catra is smiling triumphantly, like Shadow Weaver sending Adora to find her after _abandoning_ Catra in the woods is a victory, somehow…it _hurts_.

“Catra,” Adora says, then hesitates, searching for the right words. She doesn’t get the chance to find them. Catra looks confused for just a moment before realization spreads over her face.

“Shadow Weaver didn’t send you,” Catra says. It’s somewhere between a question and a statement. Adora nods and looks away. “Of course she didn’t,” Catra says, her voice going cold. “She _wanted_ me to die out here. Of course she left me.”

“Catra—“

“You’ve got sparks,” Catra says. Adora looks down. She’s been spinning the stick back and forth automatically the whole time, and a thin trail of smoke is drifting up. She drops the stick and begins to feed tiny pieces of dried moss to the heat until it grows into a small flame.

Within minutes, she’s built a small fire.

“I’ll get more sticks,” Catra says, standing. Her voice is cold enough to make Adora wince.

“Catra, wait,” Adora says, half-raising one hand to reach out. Catra looks at her with calculated disinterest. Adora lowers her hand back to her lap. “I’m—I’m sure that when we go back to the Fright Zone, Shadow Weaver will be glad to see you. You survived by yourself in the Whispering Woods for a _week_. She’ll be proud of you.” Catra just stares at her.

“Yeah,” she says eventually. “Whatever, Adora.” She disappears into the woods. Adora is left trying to warm herself up by the tiny fire alone. She understands why Catra’s upset—Adora isn’t exactly happy with Shadow Weaver right now—but it’s obvious that this is a test. It’s like the time Shadow Weaver made Adora climb the outside of the highest tower in the Fright Zone without a grappling hook. Adora had been _terrified_ at the time, but the next week, when a training simulation had dropped her entire squadron off a virtual cliff, Adora had been the only one to stay calm, having gotten used to heights in the hour and a half it took her to scale the tower. Besides, if Adora had fallen, Shadow Weaver would’ve caught her with her magic.

This is just like that. Shadow Weaver is testing Catra. She’s probably watching them both with her shadow spies right now, making note of their abilities. That’s why she was so dismissive when Adora asked her about Catra. Shadow Weaver knew Catra was fine the whole time.

Hopefully Adora charging into the woods after Catra before she figured out what was really going on doesn’t mess up the test too much.

“Hey.” Adora looks up from the fire as Catra reenters the clearing, carrying a pile of wood. She dumps it on the ground next to Adora and sits down on the opposite side of the small fire.

“Hey,” Adora says back, unsure of how to proceed. Catra’s tense, and she doesn’t like it when people try to calm her. “So, you’ll never guess what chased me last night. It was this giant—“

“Why are you here, Adora?” Catra interrupts. Adora blinks at her. “Why are you out here? Why did you follow me?” Catra takes a long, thin stick from the pile and begins to strip the bark from one end of it with her claws. “Shadow Weaver didn’t send you, and I _know_ Hordak didn’t send you, which means you’re probably not supposed to be here,” Catra says. “So _why_?”

“I…” It takes Adora a moment to turn her thoughts into words. What is Catra even _asking_? How is this a question for her? “Shadow Weaver left you, Catra,” Adora says finally. “I didn’t.” Catra’s claws pause in their motions for a moment before continuing on. Adora lets the silence stretch.

“We’ll have to find shelter before tonight,” Catra says after awhile. “I’ve been sleeping in the trees, but you’ll get too cold up there.”

“And food,” Adora adds, suddenly realizing how hungry she is. Catra grins and reaches over to her left, picking up a leaf the size of a shirt.

Beneath it are two small, dead animals.

“Food,” Catra says, and Adora rolls her eyes.

* * *

“Stop,” Catra says. At her side, Adora immediately freezes in place, looking over at her curiously. Catra closes her eyes, focusing in on the faint sound she can hear in front of them. She’s gotten used to the general buzz of the forest. She can tune all that out now. This is something different. It’s a ways in front of them yet, maybe a quarter mile away, but the sound sticks out from the forest: the distant echo of voices.

“There’s something up ahead,” Catra says, opening her eyes again. Adora is still completely frozen. “It’s…” Catra shakes her head. “It doesn’t make _sense_ , but it sounds like people.”

“People?” Adora echoes. “But there’s not supposed to be people out here, other than…” Her eyes go wide. “Is it a rebel base?”

“I can’t tell from here,” Catra says. “But it must be, right?” Catra can't convince herself. She knows what a military base sounds like; she grew up in one. Whatever she’s hearing is missing the sound of machinery, the roar of engines, the shouting of orders and the quiet thunder of marching feet. “Whatever it is, we should go around,” she says. “I’d rather not get captured.”

“Actually,” Adora says hesitantly, “we might need to go in.”

“ _What_?”

“I need water.”  
“Drink out of a river!” Catra rolls her eyes. “You swam in one last night, how did you not think of that?”

“I can’t just drink river water, Catra,” Adora says, exasperated. “I’m _human_ , remember? It could make me sick unless I boil it.” Catra…actually does kind of remember that from survival classes.

“That’s _stupid_ ,” she says. “Fine, we can sneak into the rebel base. Whatever.” She isn’t about to say _no_.

“And while we’re there, we can do recon,” Adora says as they start to move forward again. “We can bring intel on a rebel base back to the Horde! That’ll impress Shadow Weaver for sure.” Catra suppresses the urge to growl. _Impress Shadow Weaver_. As if anything Catra could ever do would impress Shadow Weaver. As if Catra still _cares_ about impressing Shadow Weaver after she sent Catra into the woods to _die_.

“Shut up,” Catra says to Adora. “There’ll be a perimeter guard somewhere, and I’m not saving you if you get caught.” Adora shuts up.

They creep forward through the woods, much slower than before. Stealth is another one of those instinctual skills that Catra has perfected over the past week, and her footsteps are silent, even over dead leaves and fallen branches. Adora’s are…not. She’s making an effort, and offers Catra an apologetic smile every time Catra turns to glare at her after a particularly loud snap, but she’s noisy all the same. Catra stays alert, listening for any trace of an approaching guard, but hears nothing. This rebel base’s security is definitely lacking.

They approach the sound of voices steadily, and the sound of movement joins it—hundreds of feet moving over the earth. Adora can probably hear it in the distance now, and Catra can pick up on distinct voices and sounds. She can’t quite make out words, but there’s dozens of voices, calling out over each other. Again, none of them sound militant. They sound… _joyous_?

“Catra,” Adora murmurs from beside her as the voices get louder. “What are we walking into?” She sounds nervous, and Catra shares the feeling.

“Dunno,” Catra whispers back. “But you need water, so…” Adora nods silently. Catra’s tail flicks out, brushing against Adora’s wrist in a gesture that Catra knows Adora finds comforting, even if she’d never admit it.

Adora seems to take it as an invitation, because moments later, she slips her hand into Catra’s.

Catra fights the urge to yank her hand back. They had held hands a lot as children, but not nearly as often in recent years—mostly due to the glare Shadow Weaver would fix on Catra every time she saw the two of them touching. But there is no Shadow Weaver out here, and Catra won’t receive so much as a strongly-worded lecture for holding Adora’s hand.

So she does. She weaves her fingers through Adora’s and, hand-in-hand, they move through the trees. Before long, they reach the edge of a huge clearing, easily big enough for several military encampments.

But that isn’t what they find.

“What _is_ this place?” Adora whispers. Catra’s glad that she doesn’t sound like she expects an answer, because Catra doesn’t have one.

The clearing is filled with dozens of small structures: tents and small huts that seem to be set up on a loose grid system—not built in rows, but spaced in order to leave straight paths between them clear. There are paths leading out of the clearing and into the woods. It’s a settlement like nothing Catra has ever seen before, without guards or walls or armaments.

The most overwhelming part, though, is the _people_.

There are hundreds of them, it seems like, all over the clearing. The main path down the center of the camp is lined with people standing behind small stalls, stocked with everything from flowers to clothing to food that smells _indescribably_ good. Others roam the path, moving from stall to stall and sampling the wares of each. Children play between the tents, chasing each other and laughing.

“They’re—they’re _civilians_ ,” Adora says quietly. “But there aren’t _supposed_ to be civilians in the Whispering Woods.” Catra takes a moment to wrap her mind around the idea. _Civilians_. They know, of course, that there are many citizens of Etheria who aren’t involved in the war, but _knowing_ that and _seeing_ it are two very different things. The closest one can get to civilian status in the Horde is a maintenance or nutrition services job, and even those workers are expected to maintain a certain level of combat proficiency, just in case. But these people…to live a life that’s not only free of authority, but one that’s _peaceful_?

“Good for them,” Catra says brusquely, taking several steps backwards to disguise herself better amongst the trees and releasing Adora’s hand in the process. She doubts they’ll be spotted here; no one in the clearing is watching the woods. Adora follows her. “We need to find water,” Catra says, putting them back on task. “I can steal something to boil it in, but not from here. Too many people.”

“Couldn’t we use the people to our advantage?” Adora asks. “We could blend in with the crowd. I don’t think anyone would notice a couple outsiders.” Catra sighs. Oh, Adora. So smart, yet so stupid.

“We could,” Catra says, “if we weren’t wearing _Horde soldier uniforms_ , dumbass.” Adora blinks, glances down at her white uniform shirt, and smiles sheepishly.

“…Right,” she says. “Okay. No blending. So what are we going to do?” Catra thinks about it for a moment, glancing back over her shoulder at the clearing. She can’t sneak into the clearing itself; it’s packed with people. Besides, it doesn’t look like any of the little stalls have cookware.

“The paths,” Catra says, gesturing at one of the paths winding away from the clearing and into the woods. “Maybe we can find an empty tent or something and look for a pot.”

“Okay,” Adora says. “Let’s go.”

They skirt around the edge of the clearing, staying about ten feet away from the edge of the trees to be safe. It’s a mostly unnecessary precaution—the people in the clearing are fully absorbed in their activities. Catra can’t figure out what they’re _doing_ that’s so interesting. To her, it just looks like a lot of people wandering around aimlessly, talking and laughing. She wonders what the purpose of it all is.

Eventually, they reach one of the paths leading away from the clearing, and begin to work their way through the woods beside it. The path is empty, but they can’t risk someone leaving the clearing and seeing them. The path curves off into the woods, and after a few minutes, Catra can’t see the clearing anymore. She can still hear it, though, and she’s distracted by the sound when Adora grabs her shoulder tightly.

“Catra,” she whispers. “Look.” Catra blinks, actually paying attention to what’s in front of her. The trees are thinning into another clearing, this one much smaller and containing a single tent off to the side. At the center of the clearing, there’s a tree with a reddish-pink stone imbedded in the trunk.

In front of the trunk is a girl.

She’s sitting on the ground facing the tree, away from Catra and Adora. She has long blonde hair, and her clothes match the style of the people in the clearing: loose, flowing garments that don’t at all resemble a uniform. Catra and Adora exchange a glance, unsure what to make of this. The girl raises her hands, holding them out towards the stone.

“What is she doing?” Adora whispers. Catra shrugs. As they watch, the stone begins to glow softly, green light emanating from its center. The girl, too, starts to glow, though her light is much duller than the stone’s.

“That’s _magic_ ,” Catra murmurs. Adora inhales sharply.

“Does that mean she’s—“

“Princess Perfuma!” a deep voice shouts from somewhere behind them. Catra freezes, turning to look at the path off to their left. A boy is jogging up the path. He, too, looks to be somewhere in between Catra’s age and adulthood. He’s dressed even more impractically than the other people in the clearing, wearing only a skirt and an armband. He has patterns painted in pink dye all over his chest.

“Birch?” the girl by the tree says, looking over her shoulder at the boy as he jogs into the clearing. “What is it?” The boy comes to a stop, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“The elders are asking for you,” he says. “It’s time.” The girl—Perfuma, a _princess_ —stands up and walks over to him. Birch puts a hand on her shoulder and smiles at her. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. “You’ll be a great ruler, just like your mom.” He pauses. “Well, other than…”

“Other than dragging the kingdom into a war?” Birch nods, looking sheepish. “I won’t repeat her mistakes,” Perfuma says. “I won’t fight the Horde. The Whispering Woods have always protected us. They’re all we need.” She’s quiet for a moment, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “Okay,” she says eventually, opening her eyes again. “I’m ready.” Birch grins.

“Let’s go get you coronated,” he says. The two of them disappear back down the path. Catra turns to look at Adora, who is staring back at her with a wide-eyed look that Catra imagines she shares.

“That was a _princess_ ,” Adora whispers. “ _Stars_. We saw a _princess_.”

“Yeah.” Catra glances down the path, but both the princess and her companion have disappeared. “They’re gone now,” she says. “We can worry about it later. Let’s check the tent for supplies.” She starts to step forward towards the clearing, but Adora catches her by the arm.

“We have to go back,” Adora says. “That princess is going to the clearing with all those people. She could hurt them. We have to stop her.” Catra laughs.

“Okay, first of all,” she says, “the princess didn’t look like she could kill a spider. Second, did you miss the bit where that guy said she was going to be a _ruler_? As in, _ruling_ all those people? She’s not going to hurt them. She’s their leader.” Adora shakes her head, eyebrows drawn together anxiously.

“That can’t be right,” she says. “Those people were civilians, they wouldn’t accept a princess as their leader. Princesses are monsters.” _Monsters_. The word makes Catra’s eyes narrow.

“Do you really believe that?” she says. “There’s monsters everywhere. I’ve been out here for a week, and all I’ve _seen_ is monsters. That princess didn’t look like any of them.” Just then, the distant voices in the clearing down the path swell, turning into a shouting, excited chorus. Adora clearly hears it, too, as she glances over her shoulder automatically at the sound. “You hear that?” Catra says. “They don’t sound like they’re getting hurt. They sound like they’re cheering for the princess.”

“But that’s…” Adora frowns. “That can’t be right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Catra says. She pulls her arm out of Adora’s grasp. “Even if she’s killing all those people right now, we can’t do anything about it. So I’m gonna go search that tent. Keep an eye on the path and get me out of there if anyone comes.”

“Catra—“ Catra walks away.

* * *

Adora has decided that she doesn’t like roasted rodent. It’s better now than it was this morning—Catra had managed not to burn Adora’s food this time—but it’s still tough and bland on Adora’s tongue.

They’re sitting on opposite sides of a fire again, but this time, the fire is burning just outside the mouth of a cave they had found earlier that evening, before moonset. It’s small, and smells vaguely rotten, but it’s dry, and will be warmer than sleeping out in the night air. Adora is wrapped in a blanket Catra had stolen from the tent, alternating bites of meat and sips of water from a wooden cup. Catra’s theft had been quite productive: a blanket, two pots—one to boil water, one to (hypothetically) cook, a few wooden cups, and a small knife.

On the other side of the fire, Catra sits, eating her own dinner in silence. She’s been quiet all day, since they saw that princess in the clearing. Adora isn’t sure how to navigate this. Catra doesn’t usually go silent around her. She gets quiet, and she runs and hides, but when Adora finds her, she always snaps out of it.

“What are you staring at?” Catra snaps. Adora blinks, realizing that she has, in fact, been staring at Catra for a solid thirty seconds.

“Uh, nothing,” Adora says. “I was just…thinking about that village.” She thinks village is the right word—a small, civilian settlement was the definition she had learned in the Horde. “Do you think we should tell Shadow Weaver about it when we get back?” Catra stares at her for a moment.

“I don’t care,” she says. “It’s not my problem what happens to them.”

“But you don’t think we need to save them from that princess?” Adora asks. Catra snorts.

“They didn’t really seem like they needed saving,” she says.

“But they need our help,” Adora says. “We’re the good guys. The princesses are monsters. We can help those people.” She _knows_ Catra knows this; they’ve been to all the same Horde classes and learned the same facts about the princesses and their regimes.

“Monsters,” Catra says, echoing Adora’s word. She stares into the dying fire, a look in her eyes that Adora has never seen before. “When Shadow Weaver dropped me in the woods, she told me I was a monster.”

“What?” Adora half-whispers. “She…”

“I don’t think she was wrong.”

“Catra, _no_.” Adora leans forward, the blanket slipping off her shoulders. “You’re _not_ a monster.”

“Look at me, Adora,” Catra says. “Look at me for real.” Adora does. Catra had eaten her dinner raw, and her chin is coated in blood, glossy in the firelight. The same blood coats her fingers and claws. If Adora didn’t know her, Catra would look _terrifying_.

“That’s different,” Adora says. “You’re just surviving. You’re not hurting anyone.” Catra doesn’t respond, and Adora changes the subject, uncomfortable with the direction they’re going. “Look, we can ask about the princesses when we get back to the Horde,” she says. “Maybe the princesses can—can mind-control people, or something. Maybe that’s why those people were cheering for that princess.” Catra snorts.

“You think _mind control_ is more likely than the Horde being wrong?” she says. Adora shakes her head helplessly.

“Or—or maybe they just don’t know,” she says. “The Horde doesn’t know that there’s civilians in the woods. Maybe that princess really is peaceful, and the Horde just doesn’t know about her. But we can find out after we get back.” She sees an opportunity, and steers the conversation back into comfortable territory. “Either way, we’ll have amazing intel,” she says. “Either we’ll have discovered the first peaceful princess, or we’ll have the location of hundreds of innocent civilians that need our help. Shadow Weaver is bound to reward us for that!” Catra laughs, and it makes Adora shrink back. It’s not the sound that Adora is used to. This laugh is bitter, angry, and tired.

“You know what?” Catra says. “I don’t _care_ if Shadow Weaver is impressed. I’m not going back.”

“…What?”

“The Horde is wrong all the time.” Catra stands, tail lashing angrily. “They were wrong about the Whispering Woods. They’re wrong about the princesses, at least one of them.” Her mismatched eyes reflect the firelight, practically glowing in the darkness. “They were wrong about _me_. I know you think this is all just some _game_ that Shadow Weaver put together, but she left me out here to _die_ , Adora.” Catra leans forward over the fire, and the light from beneath casts strange shadows across her face. “And I _didn’t_. So I’m not going back. I’m done with them.” Adora half-leans, half-falls backwards, catching herself on the palms of her hands.

“Catra…” Adora can’t breathe. “You’re just—you’re just going to _leave_? The Horde is our home! They’re our _family_! Where are you going to _go_?”

“They’re _your_ family,” Catra says. “They were never mine.” She straightens up, and the shadows on her face grow deeper. “And I’m going to stay right here. I’m a monster, remember? I belong in the Whispering Woods. Even Shadow Weaver thought so.” She turns and walks away from the mouth of the cave, towards the tree line.

Adora follows her.

“So that’s it?” Adora demands, grabbing Catra’s arm. “A week long camping trip is all it takes for you to decide to abandon the Horde? What about everything we’re fighting for?”

“ _What_ are we fighting for, Adora?” Catra says, spinning around and ripping her arm out of Adora’s grasp. “To kill that Perfuma girl? She’s not that much older than us! To take those people’s leader away from them? _Why_? She said she wouldn’t fight the Horde, and Adora—“ Catra takes a step forward, bringing herself nose to nose with Adora. “—when has the Rebellion ever even _attacked_ somebody?”

“I…” Adora doesn’t have an answer. She’s studied every major battle since the war began, and every skirmish, no matter how small, over the past year or two. Not a single one was instigated by the Rebellion. But that’s because the Horde is _winning_.

Right?

“That’s not even the point,” Catra says. “I don’t care if the Horde is right about the war, because _it’s. Not. My. Problem. Anymore_.” She takes a step back and gestures at the dark woods around them. “I like it out here,” she says, grinning. “I like the woods. I like killing and eating things. I _like_ being a monster. So I’m going to stay.”

“But…” Adora takes a step back this time, suddenly feeling very small. “You’re just—you’re just going to _leave_ me?” Catra’s smile cracks.

“I’m staying right where I am,” she says. “If you go back to the Fright Zone, you’re the one leaving me.” Something is being suggested there, something Adora can’t quite wrap her mind around.

“What?” she asks, shaking her head in confusion.

“I’m good at this,” Catra says, her tone changing from gloating to pleading in an instant. “It’s easy for me to survive out here. I can catch us food, and we can live in the cave, and if we need anything else we can steal from the village. It would be really easy, and it would be just us. The war will never get this deep into the woods.” Catra takes a step forward, and Adora is pinned in place, unable to even blink. “We could be happy,” Catra says. “We could—be _peaceful_. So just…please.”

Catra _never_ says please.

“Stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it! i'm on tumblr @daisys-quake and on twitter @thoughtsintoink; come scream with me. please leave a comment if you enjoyed so i can stockpile enough validation to finish this in the next eleven days asdgjlsakdhsk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've literally never been this productive in my life why is this fandom saving my brain cells. y'all's comments have been amazing and i haven't been replying since there's so many of them compared to what i usually get, but i've read every single one and i really appreciate them!
> 
> there are two time skips in this chapter—the first scene picks up abt six months after the end of last chapter, and the second scene takes place about nine months after that. time passing is mentioned in the fic itself, as well, but that's the timeline.
> 
> enjoy!

Catra is gone when Adora wakes up. That’s unusual. Normally, Adora rises with the morning moons, detangles herself from Catra’s arms, and builds a fire at the mouth of the cave in preparation for cooking breakfast. Catra eventually drags herself awake, lies next to the fire with her head in Adora’s lap for twenty minutes, then goes to find food. Adora likes the small birds with the red feathers for breakfast, and Catra has made herself an expert at catching them.

That was the first sign Adora noticed that Catra is changing. On the fifth day in a row that Catra had brought her a bird, Adora had teased her, saying Catra must like her if she’s going out of her way to catch the birds when the rodents are much easier prey. Catra had just looked her in the eye and admitted it: she liked Adora, and she was catching the birds for her.

It had made Adora feel strange. She doesn’t think they’re supposed to be honest with each other like that. There may not be any rules about what they can say or admit in the woods, but Adora misses the safety in restrictions.

Adora builds a fire by the cave, trying not to let Catra’s absence throw her off of her routine. Routine is valuable. It took Adora…she isn’t sure how long, but a long time, to build one in the woods, to replace the regimented training schedule of a Horde cadet with fire building and tree climbing practice, but now that she has one, she likes to stick to it.

Before Adora can really get the fire going, Catra emerges from the woods. Adora is used to her popping out of the trees suddenly and silently by now, and barely even flinches when Catra drops out of the sky and lands beside her, narrowly missing the fire.

“Good morning,” Adora says. “Where’d you go?” Catra is frowning deeply.

“The forest moved last night,” she says. “It woke me up.” Adora sighs. It isn’t surprising, really; the forest has moved three times—four, now—since she and Catra have lived here. They wake up one day and the trees are in different places. It’s the magic of the forest shifting, they think. The first time it happened had been _horrible_. Back then, Adora had spent her afternoons spying on the village they had found that first day, trying to learn more about the princess. In those days, she had planned on going back to the Horde eventually. She had been thinking of their new lives as a scouting mission.

Then she had gone out one afternoon and found only more trees where the village had once stood. Adora had _almost_ gone back to the Horde that day. She would have, if Catra hadn’t dragged her back to the cave and reminded her of all she had seen of the village throughout that first month in the forest. Adora had seen the princess be a kind and thoughtful ruler, had seen her be _friends_ with the villagers and serve them, instead of demanding service. She had watched the princess take care of her subjects’ children when they asked her to, for no other reason than to help out.

That had been the breaking point for Adora, in hindsight. She had watched Princess Perfuma be kind to her villagers’ children, and remembered the red lightning Shadow Weaver used to throw at Catra for the slightest infraction. Whether she knew it consciously at the time or not, that had been when Adora had decided to stay.

“Find anything exciting?” Adora asks Catra. “Or anything for breakfast?” Catra is empty-handed, and Adora’s stomach is rumbling.

“I didn’t have time to hunt,” Catra says. “I found a house. It smelled…” She makes a rumbling noise, deep in her chest. Adora blinks at her.

“Is that a good _grrr_ or a bad _grrr_?” she asks.

“ _Delicious_ grrr,” Catra says. “Whatever’s in that house, I want to eat it.” She pauses, seemingly reconsidering that statement. “Not the _person_ in the house,” she clarifies. “But _something_ in there smells good.”

“So you want to go steal it,” Adora guesses. Catra grins and nods, that familiar manic light in her eyes that appears every time she gets the chance to steal something. They’ve limited their thefts from Perfuma’s village—which they’ve managed to find without too much difficulty each time the forest has shifted; things don’t move _that_ far—in the interest of not getting caught, but when they do need to steal something, it’s always Catra who does it. She takes some weird kind of joy in it.

“Alright, fine,” Adora says. She climbs to her feet and kicks dirt over the half-built fire. Her hair—longer now than it was when they left the Fright Zone—falls into her face, her only hair tie long gone. She pushes it back, and it mostly obeys, since they bathed in a river yesterday and it hasn’t yet returned to being a tangled, oily mess.

“Let’s go steal something,” Adora says, holding out a hand. Catra flashes her a genuine smile, rather than the playful grin of oncoming thievery, and takes Adora’s hand in hers. It’s how they usually walk together now—hand in hand, as they had as children in the Fright Zone. Adora doesn’t know what to make of it, or the way it makes her feel. There’s the familiar feeling of _Catra, warmth, home_ that there’s always been, but there’s something else, too, something that’s only appeared over the time they’ve spent in the woods. An odd, tingling sensation that starts where Catra’s fingers lace through hers and spreads throughout Adora’s entire body. Adora tries to ignore the feeling and focus on the walk.

The house isn’t far from the cave Adora and Catra live in. The walk is uncomfortable: Adora has grown since they left the Horde, and her boots pinch her toes with every step. She steadfastly ignores it, putting one foot in front of the other until they reach the edge of the trees. The house in the clearing beyond is small and strange-looking. It doesn’t resemble the huts and tents of the village, which look almost like plants growing out of the ground, natural parts of the forest. This house is round and solid, with curtained windows, a chimney, and a solid wood door, unlike the cloth drapes the villagers use in their doorways.

“Can you smell that?” Catra whispers to Adora, her tail lashing excitedly. Adora gives her an exasperated look. Of _course_ she can’t smell whatever’s _inside_ the house from here. She’s about to tell Catra that when the door to the house opens. At the sound of the hinges creaking, both of them automatically duck behind a large tree. Cautiously, Adora peeks around one side of the trunk while Catra looks around the other.

An old woman comes out of the house, closing the door behind her. She looks human—no fur, scales, or fangs as far as Adora can see—and positively ancient. Her back is hunched, and she leans heavily on… _a broom?_ that she’s using as a walking stick.

“It’s almost time,” the old woman says. Adora jerks her head back, sure they’ve been caught. The woman isn’t looking at them, though, and doesn’t react to Adora’s sudden movement. “Or has the time already passed?” A bird lands on her shoulder, one of the red ones that Adora likes so much, and the old woman looks over at it, smiling. “What do you think, dearie? Will Mara be back soon?” The bird doesn’t answer. That doesn’t seem to bother the old woman, who picks up a basket from beside her door and sets off into the woods, away from Adora and Catra, humming quietly to herself.

“What’s wrong with her?” Catra whispers after the woman has vanished into the trees. Adora shrugs, just as confused as Catra sounds.

“I think she’s crazy,” Adora says, keeping her own voice low.

“Well, that’s good for us,” Catra says. “Maybe she’ll think the birds stole her food.” Cautiously, they step out into the clearing. Catra eyes the spot off to their left where the old woman vanished before sighing heavily. “I’ll follow her and howl if she comes back,” she says, looking over at Adora. “Don’t eat everything without me.” Adora grins.

“No promises,” she says. Catra growls at her before heading back into the forest, scampering up a tree and disappearing. Adora takes a moment to be awed by just how fast Catra can climb these days, the effortless way she crawls up tree trunks and over branches like it’s even easier than walking, before turning back to the house and the task at hand.

The door is unlocked, which makes Adora’s life a lot easier. She slips inside, glancing around. The inside of the house is messy, disorganized—a strong contrast to the living quarters in the Fright Zone, or the barren interior of the cave. There are objects everywhere, most of which Adora can’t decipher a meaning for. Other than the trinkets, across from the fireplace is a couch, and behind it, a bookshelf. The kitchen is attached to the living room, and Adora can finally smell whatever it is that had Catra so mesmerized. Adora understands Catra’s obsession immediately. The scent is sweet, almost painfully so, with a hint of something that burns her nose.

Whatever it is, Adora also wants to eat it.

She goes over into the kitchen to look around. She and Catra had snuck into the Fright Zone industrial kitchens before, but the only things they make are ration bars, slop, and the occasional custom meal for especially high-ranking officers. This kitchen is absolutely nothing like those. The cabinets are unlabeled, and small bottles line the counter, each with a label, though Adora doesn’t recognize any of the names. She grabs the one labeled _cinnamon_ and unscrews the top to take a sniff. It makes her cough violently, but also smells _delicious_ , and she recognizes it as part of the scent filling the kitchen. She’s pretty sure the powder by itself wouldn’t taste good, though, so she replaces the container and starts opening cabinets. She doesn’t find anything helpful, just spoons, bowls, and various other utensils. Nothing edible. Finally, Adora goes to the kitchen window, and that’s where she finds it, sitting on the windowsill.

She isn’t sure what to call it. It’s…some kind of food in a round pan. It seems to be composed of a layer of tan crust over deep purple filling. It’s _definitely_ the source of the delicious smell.

Adora grabs a fork from the drawer and goes to town.

_I’m never eating a bird again_. Adora can’t even _describe_ the experience of eating the thing. The filling turns out to be a mixture of thick, sweet syrup and small, purple spheres that explode in her mouth in a burst of tart juice. Adora has to lean against the windowsill for a moment after that first bite, closing her eyes and swaying. She’s barely recovered from the flavor when she takes a second bite and discovers it all over again.

After a long few moments of being thoroughly overwhelmed, the novelty of the food wears off, though it takes none of Adora’s enjoyment with it. She picks up the pan from the windowsill and carries it with her, taking small bites as she explores the rest of the house. It’s only three rooms—the main room with the couch, the kitchen, and a sparse bedroom that Adora doesn’t enter. She may be stealing food from an old lady in the woods, but she isn’t _snooping_.

Adora walks over to the bookshelf instead, skimming the titles. Most are completely unfamiliar to her. She isn’t sure what _South Salinean Cooking_ is, or _The Legend of Serenia_. The only things she’s ever read are Horde manuals and informational packets.

Finally, Adora spots a title that seems useful: _Edible Flora in the Whispering Woods_. She balances her fork in the middle of the hole she’s dug into the food in the pan and grabs the book from the shelf. She’s about to open it when she hears a screeching howl outside. Anyone else might mistake it for any of the monsters that live in the Whispering Woods. Adora knows better.

It’s Catra, letting her know that she needs to leave.

Adora tucks the book under one arm and balances the pan and fork in the opposite hand as she hurries out the door. It’s precarious, and Adora really, _really_ doesn’t want to drop the food. Somehow, she makes it all the way to the tree line without dropping anything, and she’s a few feet into the brush when Catra drops down beside her.

“Adora, you idiot,” she hisses. “You left the door open!” Adora’s eyes go wide, and she turns, looking back at the little house. Sure enough, the door is wide open. She starts to step back towards the clearing, but Catra catches her by the arm. “Too late,” she whispers into Adora’s ear. Moments later, the old woman comes back into the clearing. Her basket is full of purple spheres, the same ones as Adora had found in the pan, and she’s singing to herself with words that Adora has never heard before. They don’t even sound Etherian.

“She’s crazy,” Adora whispers. “Maybe she won’t notice.” The woman pauses in front of the house, looking at the open door.

“Silly me,” the woman says, looking at her broom as if speaking to it. “I left the door open!” She laughs and disappears back into the house. Adora turns to face Catra.

“You found it,” Catra says, zeroing in on the pan in Adora’s hand. Her eyes are comically wide, fixed on the food, and Adora laughs.

“It’s just as good as it smells,” she says. “C’mon, you can have some while we walk back to camp.” Catra snatches the pan so fast Adora doesn’t have time to blink, which just makes her laugh harder. She uses her new, extra inch of height to throw an arm around Catra’s shoulders as they walk back to the cave.

The ashes of the fire are still warm when they get back. The whole trip to the house hadn’t taken that long; the moons have shifted in the sky, but not by much. Adora sets her book down and rebuilds the fire while Catra hogs the food. Adora doesn’t mind; she has a bit of a stomachache from eating so much earlier, anyway. Once the fire is crackling nicely, she settles down across from Catra and picks her book up again.

“What are you doing with that anyway?” Catra asks. “Gonna read it?” Her tone edges on mocking, which confuses Adora.

“Yeah, I am,” Adora says. “It’ll be useful. We really should be eating more than just meat, and this way I’ll know which plants we can eat and which are poisonous.”

“Uh…okay,” Catra says, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowns. “But how are you going to read _that_? It just looks like scribbles.”

“What do you mean?” Adora looks down at the book in her lap, squinting at the cover.

It isn’t in their language. The writing on the cover is something Adora has never seen before, a series of interconnected lines and circles that don’t resemble Etherian letters in the slightest. But Adora can _read it_ —so well that she hadn’t even _noticed_ it was different.

“What the _fuck_?” she whispers to herself. She’s been trying not to let Catra’s habitual swearing rub off on her, but if there was ever a situation that warranted profanity, this is it. “I don’t…Catra, I can _read_ it.” Catra stares at her, seemingly unbelieving, so Adora flips to a random page covered in the strange script and begins to read. “Colloquially known as the Bright Moon Berry, this fruit can be found on vines in the areas of the forest near Bright Moon Castle,” she reads aloud. “It is edible without any preparation, and highly nutritious. It—“

“Okay,” Catra interrupts. “You can read it. Where did you learn to read…whatever _that_ is?” She gestures at the book. Adora shakes her head.

“I have no idea,” she says. “I just…look at it and I know what it says. Like…like magic.” She realizes, suddenly, that her hands are shaking.

“Huh,” Catra says. “Maybe being a princess is contagious. You must’ve caught it from spying on that flower girl. You get freakier by the day, Adora.” Adora rolls her eyes, seeing right through what Catra is doing. Adora was on the edge of freaking out, and Catra is pulling her back onto solid ground.

“Says the girl with feathers stuck in her teeth,” Adora says. “Did you swallow a whole bird before I got up?” Catra grins at her.

“Plucking and skinning are for wimps,” she says, but Adora catches her picking at her teeth with her claws only moments later.

They sit in silence for awhile, passing the pan and fork back and forth between them until the food is gone. Adora’s stomachache only gets worse the more she eats, but it’s worth it. She hasn’t had anything but roasted meat and the occasional vegetable stolen from the village in…well, she doesn’t know how long they’ve been out here, but months, at least.

When they’re done, Catra leans back on her palms, stretching out with a satisfied sigh. Adora finds herself watching the movements. She knows Catra, knows the way her body moves when they’re sparring, when they’re fighting together, when she’s climbing trees or running or anything else. There should be nothing fascinating about her anymore. And yet there is. Adora watches Catra tilt her face towards the sky, eyes closed, and is fixated, unable to look away.

Without opening her eyes, Catra says, “Whatcha staring at?” Adora almost jerks her gaze away, afraid of…something. Being caught, being punished. She’d never been told not to _look_ at Catra, but _this_ looking feels the same as touching, and that wasn’t allowed.

“You,” Adora says. Catra no longer follows any of the rules they had been taught, and slowly, Adora is learning to follow her example, starting with honesty. Catra opens her eyes and looks over at Adora, surprised at the honest answer to her teasing question. “You’re…” Adora doesn’t know the right words. She thinks about it for a moment, and remembers a word she once heard an older cadet use for the moonset, on a day when the green smog of the Fright Zone lifted and the sky turned brilliant pink.

“You’re beautiful,” Adora says. She doesn’t know if Catra knows the word, but maybe she can hear Adora’s feelings, because she turns a light pink and looks away, embarrassed.

“Whatever, dummy,” Catra says, standing. “I’m gonna go take a nap before catching dinner.” She disappears into the cave, trying for a dramatic exit, but the happy flicking of her tail betrays her. Adora stays by the fire and thinks about tingling fingers and moonsets and feelings that she doesn’t know the words for yet.

* * *

Catra’s neck itches while she waits.

It’s Adora’s fault. They stole scissors from the village when their hair got so long neither of them could stand it—not long after they found the house in the woods—and the first time they cut each others’ hair it had gone well. The second time, only a few days ago? Not so much. Adora had hacked off _way_ too much of Catra’s hair, and now the ends brush the back of neck and drive her crazy all the time. _Catra_ , of course, hadn’t screwed up Adora’s hair at all.

Adora blames Catra for the state of her hair because Catra wouldn’t stop squirming throughout the entire process. Catra blames Adora for the squirming. Adora had been so close to her, pushing her hands through Catra’s hair and brushing against her ears. The closeness had flustered Catra—which makes no sense, given that they sleep wrapped up in each other’s arms every night, and hold hands every day. Without the Horde’s discouragement, they spend most of every day in some kind of physical contact. Most of the time, Catra can ignore the strange way it makes her feel. But sitting there, feeling Adora’s hands in her hair, not allowed to talk or move or distract her, she couldn’t ignore the way she… _wanted_. That’s the word for it. Catra _wants_.

She just doesn’t know _what_ she wants. Even now, she glances down at Adora, on the ground far below her, and something in her reaches out for something she can’t name.

The door of the house opens, and Catra shakes her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts. The old woman comes out, accompanied as always by her broom. She seems almost sad today, her usual slightly-off-kilter smile missing from her face. Catra finds herself hoping that the old woman is alright—a thought she just _knows_ Adora is sharing right now. They’ve sort of grown fond of the old woman, despite never having spoken to her, and without her knowing they exist.

Well. She seems to kind of know they exist. Catra and Adora have been stealing her pies—that’s what she calls the delicious berry things in the round pans when she talks to herself—since last fall, and it’s summer again now. The woman has taken to baking two at a time, one for herself and one for her thieves. Catra even returns the pans when they’re done. She isn’t sure how much of the cycle the old woman actually _understands_ , given that she seems to have a slippery-at-best grasp on reality, but she’s been feeding the two of them for months, so Catra is a little concerned by her sudden somberness.

“Today’s important, isn’t it?” the woman says to a moth that lands on her hand. “It’s the big day. I can’t be late, or Adora won’t be there at the end. Or is that the beginning?” She keeps chattering, but Catra isn’t listening. Her blood is running cold. She looks down at Adora, who is standing impossibly still, staring into the clearing at the old woman. Catra drops out of the tree, falling to the ground beside Adora almost silently.

“Adora,” Catra whispers, grabbing Adora’s hand. “How does she know your name?”

“She’s leaving,” Adora says. Catra glances at the clearing. The old woman is heading for the trees on the other side of the house. “We have to follow her!” Adora hurries forward, and Catra half-runs to keep up with her, forever irritated by Adora’s longer stride.

“What is going _on_?” Catra hisses as they cross the clearing and enter the woods behind the old woman. “Did you _talk_ to her?”

“No!” Adora spares Catra an eye roll. “I’m not an _idiot_. I don’t know _how_ she knows my name. But, Catra, she knows my name, and she has those books—maybe she knows why I can read the language. Maybe she knows _me_.” There’s a desperation in her tone that bothers Catra. _Catra_ knows Adora—knows the parts that matter, anyway, not the magical mystery language nonsense.

“Or maybe she’s just insane,” Catra points out. “She could’ve heard us talking at some point and learned your name. We haven’t exactly been sneaky around her!” Adora shakes her head firmly.

“I have to know,” she says. “I _have_ to.” Catra shouldn’t be surprised. Being able to read that strange book has been bothering Adora for almost a year. Sometimes Catra wakes up and Adora is reading it again, eyebrows drawn together in a way that tells Catra that she isn’t really thinking about plants.

“Ugh, _fine_ ,” Catra says, pulling her hand back from Adora’s. “We can go interrogate the old lady.”

“We’ll have to catch her first,” Adora says, breaking into a jog.

“Stars, why is she so _fast_?” Catra demands to no response. Adora has gone single-minded with intent. Catra hasn’t seen her so focused since the Horde. Catra runs to catch up, keeping her eyes fixed on Adora’s back. Neither of them wear their Horde clothes anymore, having outgrown them that winter. They had stolen clothes and sandals from the village, and now neither of them bear a trace of their upbringing.

Not on the outside, anyway.

Catra almost runs into Adora before she realizes that Adora has stopped at the edge of a clearing. Catra doesn’t remember there being a clearing here, and the woods haven’t shifted lately, so there shouldn’t be one. Catra steps sideways, bringing herself shoulder-to-shoulder with Adora, and is about to express her confusion when she sees it.

“Oh, _holy shit_ ,” Catra whispers. At the center of the clearing is a structure like nothing Catra has ever seen before. It isn't like the industrial towers of the Fright Zone, or the small huts of Perfuma’s village, or even the old woman’s house in the woods. It’s…otherworldly.

“What _is_ that?” Adora asks, just as awestruck. Catra shakes her head, speechless. The building juts into the sky, the day-moon light glinting off its every surface. It almost seems to glow. The tower has lines carved down its sides, clearly a part of its construction, beside thick vines and dozens of smaller scratches near its base, like animals have clawed at it over the years that it’s been here.

Whatever the structure is, it’s been abandoned for a long time.

“We’re here,” the old woman says. She’s standing at the base of the tower, and as Catra watches, she turns and looks directly at the two of them. “Come on out now, Mara dearie.” Catra and Adora exchange an uncertain look. The woman isn’t exactly a threat, but whatever that building is could be. Catra is about to suggest they run when Adora steps into the clearing. Because of course she does. That seems to delight the old woman, who runs over to Adora with a smile. “There you are, Mara!” she says. “You’re just in time. Light Hope needs to see you today!” Adora takes a step back, and Catra emerges from the woods to stand beside her, ready to step in and protect her if something goes wrong.

“What are you talking about?” Adora asks. “Who is Light Hope? Who is Mara? How did you know _my_ name?” The old woman blinks and tilts her head, her glasses going askew on her nose.

“Ah, sorry, sorry,” she says after a moment. “Mara was just here yesterday. She has me all mixed up.” The woman fixes her glasses and smiles up at Adora. “But you, dearie, you’re needed, too! You must go inside.” She turns to Catra, looking at her directly for the first time. Catra shivers under her gaze. She isn’t afraid, but something in the old woman’s eyes is _knowing_ in a way that unsettles Catra. “You, you shouldn’t go,” the woman says. “You should come back with Razz until the storm passes.”

“Storm?” Catra glances up, and sure enough, there are black clouds in the sky. Catra’s _sure_ they weren’t there a minute ago, but the woods do love to fuck with her. “Who’s Razz?” she asks, looking back down at the woman.

“Me, of course,” the woman says. “Madame Razz. Don’t be silly, you know my name.” Catra realizes that she isn’t going to get a straight answer out of this woman, so she turns to Adora, about to ask what, exactly, the plan is, when a raindrop lands on her head.

Catra jumps and hisses. She _hates_ water.

“Oh, it’s starting,” Razz says, looking up at the sky. “Better get inside quickly, Adora. You don’t want to be caught in the rain.” With that, she turns and heads back into the woods, once again moving more quickly than anyone her age should be able to.

“Wait!” Adora calls after her, stepping forward. “How do you know my name? How can I read those books? What _am_ —“ She’s interrupted by the bright flash of lightning, followed immediately by the loudest thunder Catra has ever heard in her life. The rain doubles, triples in force, the drops huge and freezing cold.

“Adora,” Catra says, grabbing her arm. “We need to get inside. That lightning was _close_.” Adora stares into the woods after Razz for another long moment, anguish on her face. Then she nods reluctantly and lets Catra pull her away, towards the structure in the middle of the clearing. Thunder booms again, making Catra flinch. They reach the front of the structure just as the rain turns to hail. Catra shoves at the doors, but they don’t budge.

“Adora!” Catra hisses, turning to glare at her. “Help me out here!” Adora is staring at the top of the door, a perplexed expression on her face. “ _Adora_!” Finally, Adora looks back down, meeting Catra’s eyes.

“There’s something written on the door,” Adora says. “It’s that same language.” Catra glances up. There’s a series of symbols at the top of the door, all lines and circles like the book Adora had stolen last fall.

“Does it matter right now?” Catra snaps. “Help me open the door!”

“I think it’s a password.” Adora turns her gaze back to the top of the door. “It says… _Eternia_.”

The building glows, and the doors swing open.

* * *

Adora can tell that Catra is upset. Her tail is stiff, and her arms are crossed across her chest as they walk deeper into the mysterious building. Adora isn’t sure if it’s the rain or Adora’s own distant attitude that’s upsetting Catra, but she can’t bring herself to ask right now: she has other things on her mind. The markings on the door had matched the ones in the book. Whatever this place is, it was built by the same people who wrote that book. Maybe there are answers here.

“Whoever built this place wasn’t big on being able to see, huh?” Catra says after a minute or two of walking down a seemingly endless hallway. Adora glances over at her. It’s true; the hallway is barely bright enough for her to make out Catra’s face. Adora isn’t sure where the scant light is coming from. It almost seems to be emanating from the walls.

“I guess not,” Adora says, looking back to where she’s going. “It’s amazing there’s any light at all. I think the building is…really old.” Catra makes a quiet sound of acknowledgement, and they keep walking in silence. Adora kind of wants to reach out for Catra’s hand, but Catra’s arms are still crossed, and Adora doesn’t want to upset her further. Adora settles for brushing their shoulders together and watching the way Catra’s ears flick in response.

The hallway isn’t as endless as it seems. They reach the end of it fairly quickly, and step into a large room with a high ceiling, lit by the same dim, sourceless glow as the hall. There are crystals jutting out of the floor at various points, mostly translucent and dull. Adora walks into the center of the room, turning in a slow circle to take it in.

“Adora?” Catra says. She sounds concerned. “Are you okay?” Adora blinks in confusion and turns to look at Catra.

“I…” She doesn’t know. “I thought there might be answers. More books or—or something. An explanation for what that language is and why I can read it.” Catra’s worried expression shutters.

“Right,” she says. “Well, doesn’t look like it. Maybe we should go back to the door and wait for the rain to stop.” Adora shakes her head and looks around the room again. Something…something in here isn’t right. She can _feel_ it.

“Hello?” Adora calls. Her voice echoes around the chamber, saying _hello hello hello_. “Is anyone there?”

“This place is abandoned,” Catra says, sounding annoyed now. “There’s no one—“

“ _Unauthorized presence detected_.” The voice comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It’s stiff, inhuman, and makes a chill run down Adora’s spine.

“Hello?” she calls again, looking around the room for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?”

“ _Unauthorized presence detected_ ,” the voice says again. “ _Security protocol initiated_.” Adora looks over at Catra.

“That doesn’t sound good,” she says. Catra rolls her eyes. She opens her mouth, already prepared with a snappy comeback.

She doesn’t get to say it. Instead, blood sprays out of her mouth.

“ _Catra_!” Adora takes a step forward, reaching out with one hand, but Catra is too far away for her to touch. Slowly, Catra uncrosses her arms and looks down.

There, just below her ribcage, a black spike sticks out of the center of her chest. Catra looks up, wide eyes finding Adora’s. She makes a gurgling sound in the back of her throat, as if she’s trying to speak, and then the spike withdraws, pulling back through her body and out of her back. Catra collapses forwards onto the floor. Beneath her, a crimson puddle starts to form.

Adora lifts her gaze from Catra’s still form and looks at the thing behind her. It looks like a spider: all black, too many legs, a bloody spike extending from its mouth. With two of its front legs, it reaches out for Catra, and Adora remembers how to move.

Quick as anything, Adora grabs the knife from her belt and throws it across the room. Her aim is perfect. The blade sinks to its hilt in one of the creature’s eyes. The thing skitters backwards, its joints clicking and scraping mechanically. Adora rushes forward and falls to her knees, pulling Catra into her arms.

“Catra?” she says, sliding an arm beneath Catra’s head. “Catra!” Catra doesn’t respond. Blood from the entrance wound on her back seeps into Adora’s pants, soaking them through in seconds. “Catra, _please_ ,” Adora whispers. She tries to push Catra’s hair back from her face, but only succeeds in wiping the blood that’s quickly covered her hands all over Catra’s forehead. “Please, we need to run.” Adora can hear the creature moving around in the hallway it had retreated into, and it sounds like there might be more than one of them.

Catra doesn’t respond. Her eyes are still open, but they stare at nothing, glazed over and still. Adora grits her teeth against the sob in her throat and the nausea in her stomach. She can _smell_ the blood.

The clacking of spider-claws against crystal floor is getting louder. Adora slips her other arm beneath Catra’s legs and stands. She weighs nothing in Adora’s arms. Blood drips from Catra’s back, joining the pool already gathered on the floor.

Adora turns and runs. She picks a random tunnel on the other side of the chamber and sprints for it. The sound of legs begins to follow her, and Adora pushes harder, her sandals slapping against the crystal floor. Catra is limp in her arms. Adora cradles Catra’s head against her shoulder, trying to hold her still. She doesn’t want to make the wound worse. She doesn’t know if it _can_ get worse.

Adora turns a corner, and runs into darkness. The soft blue glow of the other hallways is gone, replaced by a black so thick Adora swears she can taste it. The sound of legs fades and vanishes. The spiders haven’t followed her.

Adora drops to her knees on a floor she can’t see. Everything around her is dark. She lowers Catra to the ground and finds her neck by touch alone. She feels around, running her fingers over skin and fur wet with blood— _how is there so much blood?_ —but it only confirms what Adora already knew.

Catra doesn’t have a pulse.

“Please,” Adora is saying, over and over. “Please, please, please, _Catra_.” Catra doesn’t respond. Her lifeless eyes seem to glow in the dark, the only point of light that Adora can see, staring up at the nothing above them. “ _Please_.” Adora closes her eyes, not that it makes any difference in the dark. She finds the hole in Catra’s sternum with her fingertips and presses her palm against it. _Pressure_ , she remembers from first aid in the Horde. Pressure stops bleeding.

“ _Please_.” Adora keeps her hand pressed against Catra’s wound. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter, and light begins to dance behind her eyelids, turning everything pink and red.

“Please, Catra,” Adora says, eyes still shut. She digs her fingernails into what remains of Catra’s shirt, holding on as tightly as she can. “ _Come back_.”

The light flashes bright white, and Adora slips into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...i promise it ends happily?
> 
> i got inspired for razz being involved w the first ones/knowledgeable abt them from [seeing stars by fruitsandpeachies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19824463/chapters/46940851), which is one of my favorite catradora fics. i'm on tumblr @daisys-quake and on twitter @thoughtsintoink; feel free to come yell at me for what i've done. if you liked the chapter, please leave a comment!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another time skip in this chapter, between the second and third scenes—just two months this time. hope you enjoy!

Catra dies in flashes. A dull pinch in her chest. A burning sensation that spreads over her body. Adora, reaching out for her, mouth open wide as she screams Catra’s name. The taste of her own blood between her teeth. Then nothing. Nothing for a long time, until…

Light. White light so bright and pure that it blasts through Catra’s eyes and into her brain, forcing the darkness out. The feeling of movement, of being moved. Someone is carrying her, Catra realizes on one of her closer brushes to consciousness. She forces her eyes open just wide enough to see more of that white light—softer now, more of a glow than a commanding force—and glimpse long blonde hair. The arms around her are strong, large, and unfamiliar. But she can smell the lavender that Adora rubs on her clothes sometimes, and the familiar scent is enough to lull Catra back into unconsciousness.

Catra drifts for awhile after that. Her mind plays good memories for her in her dreams: sparring with Adora in the woods, teaching Adora to climb trees, sitting in a high branch and watching the moonset, napping with her head in Adora’s lap, playing tag through the treetops and letting Adora catch her. Catra drifts closer to consciousness sometimes, and hears flashes of voices she doesn’t recognize chattering around her. She isn’t sure where she is. But she can still smell lavender, so she doesn’t worry. She stays inside her mind, running through the forest with Adora by her side.

Eventually, though, she has to wake up.

It takes a long few seconds after Catra fully opens her eyes for her to realize that she’s indoors. She’s used to seeing trees, the cave ceiling, or Adora when she wakes up, and the ceiling above her is none of those. It’s nothing Catra is familiar with: a metallic material that looks almost like gold, but doesn’t quite shine in the same way. It’s light, wherever she is—bright enough that her head starts to hurt. Catra tries to groan in pain, but all she can manage is a quiet hissing noise that turns into a coughing fit in her sandpaper-dry throat.

“Easy,” a voice says from beside her. Hands grab onto her shoulder and hip, holding her steady. “Take a breath.”

_I’m_ trying _to, jackass_ , Catra tries to say. Instead, she wheezes violently.The wheeze turns into a cough, and for a moment Catra feels like her lungs are going to explode. Then the pressure is gone, and she breathes in.

“There you go,” the voice says. The hands retreat. Catra takes a few more gasping breaths, then looks over at the source of the voice. It’s a man, human, with short blond hair and tan skin. He’s dressed in clothes of a style unfamiliar to Catra—soft-looking, single-colored fabric that forms a loose shirt and pants.

“Who are you?” Catra asks, managing words this time as she glances around. Empty beds line the long, narrow room, each with the same plain white sheets as she’s sitting on. Windows behind each bed let a flood of moonlight in. “Where am I? Where’s Adora?”

“I’m a healer,” the man says. He smiles reassuringly at her, though it doesn’t do much for Catra. She doesn’t see Adora anywhere. “My name is Byrd. You’re in the Bright Moon Castle infirmary.”

“I’m _where_?” Catra asks, tensing. “I’m in Bright Moon? Headquarters-of-the-Rebellion Bright Moon?”

“That’s the one.” Catra sits all the way up—and immediately regrets it. Her chest flares with pain, and she grits her teeth to keep from crying out as she presses a hand to it. _The spider_. Catra looks down. She’s wearing some kind of robe, like the ones used in the Fright Zone hospital, and beneath it, she can feel the tight grip of bandages wrapped all the way around her torso. “Take it easy,” Byrd says, stepping forwards again. He reaches out, as if to touch her, and Catra hisses, baring her fangs at him. He pulls his hands back immediately. “Sorry,” he says uncertainly. “But—you should be careful. The damage to your bones and organs has been repaired, but you lost a lot of blood, and there’s still a lot of tissue damage that you could agitate by—“

“How did I get here?” Ignoring Byrd’s rambling, Catra swings her legs over the edge of the bed.

“You shouldn’t stand up—“

“ _Where’s Adora_?” Catra’s claws come out, sinking into the bed as she pushes herself to her feet.

“I don’t know,” Byrd says. Catra growls. It’s the same sound she uses to scare away predators in the woods—low, guttural, threatening. Byrd goes pale and raises his hands defensively. “She’s here in Bright Moon,” he clarifies. “She visits you every day. I just don’t know _exactly_ where in the castle she is right now.” Catra lets her death glare drop a few notches.

“How long have I been here?” she asks next, leaning more heavily against the bed.

“Four days,” Byrd says. “Would you _please_ sit down?” Reluctantly, Catra does so. Her wounds thank her by dropping from _currently-getting-stabbed_ to just regular agonizing. “You and Adora were found outside the castle gates,” Byrd says. “You were both passed out on the ground and covered in blood, but Adora was uninjured. It was…” He hesitates.

“It was all my blood,” Catra says, rolling her eyes at his attempt to coddle her. “How am I alive?” Byrd sighs.

“Honestly?” he says. “We have no idea. Clearly you were stabbed straight through when the giant beetle attacked you—“ _Giant beetle? So Adora didn’t tell them where we were_. “—but when we checked your wounds, there was no damage to your spine, or the organs between the entry and exit wounds. We can only speculate that you were magically healed somehow, but Adora claims she doesn’t remember anything.” _Huh_. Catra doesn’t remember much, either, but she remembers the blast of light that had brought her back, and she remembers that Adora was there. Unless the light came with amnesia in addition to magical healing powers, Adora’s keeping secrets from these people.

“I want to see her,” Catra says. “Can you bring Adora here?” Byrd nods.

“I can go get her,” he says, grabbing a cup of something off a nearby table. “But I want you to drink this first.” He hands it to Catra, who sniffs it suspiciously. It smells like plants, mostly, and something sharp and fiery that she doesn’t recognize.

“What is it?” she asks, glancing at Byrd.

“It’s for pain,” he says. He sounds a bit exasperated. “You don’t have to be suspicious of me, Catra. I’m trying to help you. I understand that you and Adora have been alone for a long time, but—“

“How long?” Catra interrupts. “What day is it?” Byrd tells her the date, and Catra does the math in her head quickly. She doesn’t remember the exact date she left the Horde, but… “A year and four months,” she whispers. A year and four months since she was dropped in the woods and survived. It had felt so much _longer_ than that.

“That’s what Adora said, too,” Byrd says. Catra leans back against the pillows at the head of the bed, staring down at the cup in her hands, and Byrd seems to pick up on her change in mood, because he says, “I’ll get Adora. Drink your medicine,” and leaves the room.

A year and four months. It makes sense, Catra supposes, with the passing of the seasons—they’d been in the woods through two springs, two summers, and the beginning of a second fall. But Catra hadn’t cared to keep track of time out in the woods, since the seasons were mild enough to ignore most of the time. She had thought it was longer. She feels so different than she had at thirteen.

She’s fifteen now, Catra realizes suddenly. Her birthday had passed last week.

Catra looks around the room, ears flicking. It’s quiet in here, and smells of a mixture of herbs and rubbing alcohol. Outside the windows, she can faintly hear running water and voices in the distance. The walls are all the same shade of yellow, and the sheets are grotesquely soft beneath her.

She spent a lot of time alone when she was in the woods—hunting, wandering, climbing trees by herself—but she doesn’t think she’s felt this lonely since she left the Horde.

* * *

“I want to go in alone,” Adora says before they reach the door to the infirmary beds. Byrd just nods and steps aside, heading towards a different part of the hospital wing of the castle. Her other two companions, however, hesitate.

“You sure?” Bow asks. “Byrd said she was pretty upset.”

“That’s why I’m sure,” Adora says firmly. “Catra’s my—we’re—“ Words fail her. Adora takes a breath and tries again. “I’m the only person she’s been around in over a year,” she says. “And even before that, she didn’t like…people. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Okay,” Glimmer says. “Let us know when we can come in and meet her, though! You made her sound so cool!”

“She _is_ cool,” Adora says. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll see you guys in a minute.” Her new friends nod in agreement, and Adora turns to face the door. She’s nervous. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous. It’s _Catra_. She’s Adora’s… _she’s Adora’s_. Adora takes a deep breath, straightens her shoulders, and goes inside the room.

Catra is sitting up in bed, which relieves the first pound of tension in Adora’s shoulders. Every time she’s visited over the past four days, Catra has been completely unconscious, hardly even breathing as her body recovered. But now, those mismatched eyes are open and alert as they fix on Adora. Catra’s face splits into a grin.

“Hey, Adora,” she says. Her voice is rough, wheezing with every word, but her tone is casual, teasing, _familiar_ , and Adora _breaks_.

“ _Catra_ ,” she says, and crosses the room in a blink. She plants one knee on the bed and throws her arms around Catra, pulling her as close as she physically can.

“Nice to see you, too,” Catra says, settling her arms around Adora’s shoulders. Adora just clutches her even closer, conscious of the fact that she could be agitating Catra’s wounds but unable to let go, even a little. “Hey,” Catra whispers into Adora’s ear. “Adora. Are you okay?” Adora laughs. She’s aware that she sounds more than a little unhinged, but she can’t stop. She pulls back just slightly, just far enough that she can press her forehead against Catra’s, and tries to catch her breath.

“Am _I_ okay?” Adora asks, breathless. “Catra, you—you were—“ She can’t say it. Something passes over Catra’s face, and her gaze drops away from Adora’s and off to the side.

“I know,” Catra says. “I died. I know.” She pulls her forehead away from Adora’s, breaking the contact between their bodies, though she keeps one of her hands on the back of Adora’s neck. “Adora, what…what brought me back?” Adora covers Catra’s hand with her own, lifting it away from her neck and pressing a kiss against Catra’s palm. Catra blinks in surprise at the gesture, but allows it as Adora kisses her palm, her wrist, her fingertips, her knuckles. Finally, Adora laces their fingers together and wraps her other hand around the back of Catra’s. Adora pulls their joined hands to her chest, pressing them against her heart.

“I did,” she whispers, the truth coming out for the first time since she woke up in Bright Moon. “I did. You were gone, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you be gone, Catra. I _couldn’t_. So I…I don’t know what I did. I kept saying please, and I asked you to stay, and then there was this light. So much light. And I could feel something powerful inside me, and then I woke up in Bright Moon. You were in the next bed over. Alive.” Catra nods slowly. Adora recognizes her thinking face, so she stays quiet, letting Catra process. Adora just stares at her, takes her in. She replaces the memory of Catra’s eyes glazed over and dead, blood dripping out of her mouth, with _this_ Catra—breathing, awake, _alive_.

“I think you carried me,” Catra says after a moment. “After the light. I remember the light. Someone was carrying me…” She rubs at her forehead, frowning. “She smelled like you. And she was blonde.”

“I don’t know,” Adora says. “I don’t remember.” She reaches out and touches Catra’s face, pressing her palm to Catra’s cheek, keeping her other hand locked around Catra’s and pressed against her chest. Catra’s skin is warm beneath Adora’s palm. It steadies her. Catra hadn’t been… _gone_ long enough to go cold, but Adora has had a nightmare about that every night she’s been in Bright Moon. In her dreams, she sits in the dark room and begs Catra to stay, begs and begs until Catra’s body goes cold in her arms.

“So you were right,” Catra says, her tone unreadable. “You are magic.” Adora’s hand drops to Catra’s shoulder, tracing patterns over the fabric of the gown.

“I am,” she whispers. “I’m magic.” It’s the first time she’s ever said it out loud.

“Huh.” Catra sounds purposefully neutral. Adora assumes she’s hiding the same automatic feelings of revulsion that Adora herself has had since she confirmed her suspicions. The Horde conditioning still lives with them both, despite their best efforts to abandon it. “So, what now?” Catra asks. “Do we stay here until I’m healed?” Adora hesitates. She doesn’t want to get into this yet, but she doesn’t want to lie to Catra, either. She hesitates a bit too long, and Catra raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I want to stay,” Adora blurts.

“Stay,” Catra echoes. Her neutral tone is drifting into cold territory, now. “What do you mean?”

“Stay here in Bright Moon,” Adora says. “Permanently.” Catra’s carefully constructed lack of expression shatters, and she stares up at Adora with…Adora blinks when she recognizes the emotion. It’s been so long since she’s seen pain on Catra’s face. She had almost forgotten what it looked like.

“You want to stay?” Catra asks, suddenly sounding very small. “You don’t want to come home with me?”

“I want us _both_ to stay,” Adora clarifies, but that doesn’t seem to make Catra any happier. “These people know a lot about magic. They could help me figure out what’s happening to me.”

“Is that why you lied to them about what brought me back?” Catra asks, tone acidic. Adora flinches. Her hand drops from Catra’s shoulder and her fingers loosen around the hand she has clutched to her chest.

“I didn’t know if I could trust them at first,” Adora says. “And then they were okay with it when I told them about being from the Horde, so I figured I could trust them, but I didn’t want to tell them about _all_ of it until you woke up. You were the one who died, Catra. It isn’t my place to tell people about it.” Catra pulls her hand out of Adora’s and looks away. “Besides, it’s nice here,” Adora says, getting a bit desperate. “I made a few friends, and the _food_ —stars, Catra, the food is just—“ She shakes her head. “Fucking _incredible_.” Adora doesn’t curse much, but she knows that Catra reacts to it when she does, and sure enough, the tiniest smile forms on Catra’s face.

“Friends?” Catra asks. “You made friends?”

“Don’t sound surprised, you jerk,” Adora says, laughing. “I’m good with people!”

“You haven’t talked to _people_ in a year and a half, dumbass,” Catra says. “And before that I was the only one who could stand you.” Her joke is overshadowed by her first sentence, as Adora is reminded _just how long_ they were in the woods.

“A year and a half,” she echoes. Catra shifts, looking uncomfortable.

“Yeah, well,” she says, “that’s rounding up.”

“Yeah.” Adora turns, pulling her knee off the bed and dangling her legs off the side. Her feet land firmly on the floor beneath them, which surprises her for a moment. She isn’t used to her height yet. “I didn’t realize it had been so long,” Adora says, staring down at her knees.

“Are you mad at me?” Catra asks, making Adora’s head whip around in surprise. “Because I made you stay for so long?”

“What?” Adora says. “Of course not. Why would you _think_ that?” Catra shrugs and looks away.

“You made friends,” she says. “In four days, you made friends, and you want to stay with them instead of me.” Adora stares at Catra for a long moment, utterly speechless. Then she stands up and turns around to face the bed.

“Can you walk?” Adora asks. Catra frowns at her.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Probably not very far. Why?” Adora holds out a hand.

“I’ll help you,” she says. “Come on. I have something to show you.” Hesitantly, Catra reaches out. She leans heavily on Adora as she climbs to her feet. Adora pulls Catra’s arm over her shoulders, bending her knees so that they’re the same height. “C’mon,” Adora says again, turning them to face one end of the room. Slowly, they make their way down the long hall, all the way to the end, where a giant window provides a view of the outside.

Beyond the castle, the Whispering Woods stretch out into the distance. Adora feels Catra sag against her, letting herself be held up. Adora rises to the task, wrapping an arm around Catra’s waist tightly.

“You see that?” Adora says. “The woods are right there. If you want to go back, I’ll go with you.” She looks over at Catra and meets a quiet, curious gaze. “I’m still going to visit Bright Moon sometimes. I like my new friends, and I—I _have_ to know who I am, Catra. I have to know how I brought you back. But you’re my first choice, and I’ll live with you anywhere, if that’s what you want.” She pauses. Catra is staring up at her with that raw, wanting expression that Adora recognizes from their nights in the woods, using the barely-there winter chill as an excuse to hold each other so closely that their bodies became one. “Although, for the record?” Adora says. “I really like running water and real beds, so I might have to visit Bright Moon a _lot_.” Catra laughs, and it shatters the intensity of the moment. Adora isn't sure if that’s a relief or a disappointment.

“We can stay, you idiot,” Catra says. “At least for now.” She sags even further into Adora’s side. “Can you carry me back? I don’t think I can walk any more.”

“Course.” Adora lifts Catra up effortlessly, tucking an arm under her knees to join the one beneath her shoulders. She takes slow, careful steps as she carries Catra back to bed, trying not to jostle the wound. Catra allows herself to be set gently back in bed. Adora pulls the sheets back up over Catra’s legs and leans down to rest her forehead against Catra’s, dragging a quiet purr out of her.

“Any chance I can get some of that food?” Catra asks after a moment. Adora pulls away and smiles.

“Of course,” she says. “But…first, do you wanna meet my friends?” Catra hesitates for a moment, that uncertainty from earlier making a reappearance, before nodding.

“Yeah, okay,” she says. Adora grins and turns away, ready to bring Bow and Glimmer in, but Catra catches her by the wrist. “Hey,” she says. “You’re my first choice, too. So…promise I’ll stay yours?” Adora’s smile, impossibly, gets wider.

“Promise,” she says. This time, when she turns away, Catra doesn’t stop her. “Bow! Glimmer!” Adora calls, loud enough to be heard through the door. “Get in here! Catra wants to meet you!”

* * *

Catra eats breakfast alone. That isn’t unusual. She and Adora share a room now—after three weeks of Catra sleeping in Adora’s bed rather than her own, Queen Angella had repurposed Catra’s room entirely—but most days, Adora is already gone when Catra wakes up. It isn’t like in the woods; Adora isn’t just outside the mouth of the cave, and Catra can’t drag herself, half-conscious, to Adora’s lap for another half hour of rest. She doesn’t even know where Adora _is_ most mornings, this one included.

Catra eats in the staff dining hall, which is usually empty except for her by mid-morning. Glimmer has invited her a dozen times to eat in the royal hall with Bow, Glimmer, Adora, and Angella, but even if Catra was motivated to drag herself out of bed that early, she’d refuse. Something about the idea of eating in a giant, jewel-studded chamber where she doesn’t have to look at or talk to or think about the people who made her food bothers Catra. She doesn’t know how it _doesn’t_ bother Adora.

Catra is almost finished eating when the doors to the dining hall swing open. She glances over her shoulder, wondering who else is eating this late. It’s Spinnerella and Netossa, the two princesses who fight for the Rebellion. Catra has seen them around occasionally over the past two months, but they don’t usually stay in the castle. They’re a _couple_ , according to Glimmer, which Catra understands to mean that they live together and only have sex with each other. Catra doesn’t really understand the _point_ of such an arrangement, but she likes Spinnerella and Netossa. They’re always nice to Catra.

This morning, they seem to be in particularly high spirits. They’re holding hands, and Netossa is whispering something to Spinnerella that makes her laugh and bump her shoulder against Netossa’s, almost scoldingly. Catra has to take a moment to blink away the image of her and Adora doing the exact same thing on any given day they spent in the woods.

They seem to notice Catra watching, because when Netossa whispers something to Spinnerella and walks away, heading for the long table on the other side of the hall where food is piled in serving dishes, Spinnerella doesn’t follow her. Instead, she walks over to Catra’s table and says, “Mind if we join you?”

“Sure,” Catra mumbles. She’s half-embarrassed to have been caught staring, but mostly dying to ask questions. Spinnerella doesn’t call her out on the stare. She just sits down and pulls up a chair beside her for Netossa. Catra stares down at her food, awkwardly tugging at her hair just for something to do with her hands. It’s short now—she had gotten it cut a few weeks after arriving at Bright Moon, too impatient and too annoyed by the ends of it tickling her neck to let it grow out. She actually likes it short, honestly.

“Where’s Adora this morning?” Spinnerella asks after a moment. “I thought you two were inseparable.”

“Dunno,” Catra says. “She eats with Bow and Glimmer, not me.” She pokes at her food, suddenly less interested in it. She doesn’t want to talk about Adora. “Hey, you and Netossa are a couple, right?” she asks.

“We are,” Spinnerella says. “We’ve been together since we were a little older than you.” Catra nods slowly.

“Together,” she repeats, turning the word over in her mind. “What…does that mean, exactly?”

“Oh,” Spinnerella says, sounding surprised. “…I guess they don’t really teach you about love in the Horde.” Catra bristles slightly, as she always does when someone mentions her upbringing. It still hurts sometimes, like the stab wound in her chest, twinging when something pokes at it too closely.

“I love all kinds of stuff,” Catra says, almost defensively. “Like…fish. And pancakes. And…” She pauses, trying to think of something that isn’t food, but Spinnerella is already laughing before anything comes to mind. Catra frowns, unsure what she said that was funny.

“It’s not really like that,” Spinnerella says. “Loving another person is different. It’s like…” She pauses, thinking about it. “Like, I’m not home right now,” she says. “We have a house in the city, and normally we stay there instead of the castle. But Netossa’s here, so even if I’m not _home_ , I’m home. Does that make sense?” It doesn’t, and Catra is about to say so when Netossa walks up to the table, carrying two plates of food on one arm and two mugs in the other hand.

“Morning, Catra,” she says, setting the dishes down and settling into her chair. “What are we talking about?” Spinnerella leans over and kisses her cheek, taking one of the mugs from her hands.

“Just how much I love you,” she says. It’s a good answer—not a lie, but it gives Catra an out, if she doesn’t want to keep talking about this. Catra appreciates it, but she _does_ want to keep talking about this. She wants to _understand_.

“I just…have questions,” Catra says. Netossa looks over at her, eyebrows raised curiously. “I guess I don’t really get what it _means_. To love someone. And, no offense, Spinnerella, but the way you explained it didn’t make any sense.”

Spinnerella just laughs, looks at Netossa, and says, “Do you want to take a crack at this, darling?”

“Sure,” Netossa says. “What it means to love someone, huh?” She tips her chair back, thinking about it for a minute. “I guess it means…I fight in the Rebellion because I care about the cause, right? I think the world will be better without the Horde. But I also do it, I do _everything_ , for Spinnerella. Because I want the world to be better _for her_. Does that make sense?” Catra shakes her head.

“I just don’t _get_ it,” she says. “What does it _feel_ like? Are you guys _friends_?” Netossa drops her chair back onto all four legs and glances over at Spinnerella. The two of them exchange a knowing look, and again, Catra is reminded of herself and Adora. They can communicate without words, too.

“Of course we are,” Spinnerella says, turning back to Catra. “Netossa is my best friend. That’s one of the most important parts.”

“But it’s more than that,” Netossa says. “There’s this…pull. Right here.” She puts her hand over her heart. “Just this _feeling_ that tugs at me whenever we’re too far apart. Telling me I’m missing something.”

“…Huh.” Catra thinks about that for a moment. “Yeah. I think that makes sense.” She shifts in her chair, a bit uncomfortable under Spinnerella and Netossa’s combined gaze now that they’re focused on her, rather than each other. “Thanks for talking to me.”

“Of course,” Spinnerella says. “And, Catra, if you ever need to talk about anything, or need any advice, we’re here for you. Okay?” The statement seems pointed, but Catra isn’t sure why. She just nods and stands up, gathering her plate.

“I’ll see you guys around,” she says. Spinnerella and Netossa echo the sentiment, and Catra walks away, carrying her plate to the dish cart. She isn’t sure what to make of the whole conversation. She understands better, now, the idea of love, or at least what it means to Spinnerella and Netossa. But the curiosity inside her that had driven her to ask about it in the first place isn’t satisfied.

Still deep in thought, Catra puts her dishes down and turns to head for the door. Her hearing, still sharply alert from over a year of living wild, picks up on quiet voices across the room.

“Could you get more coffee while you’re up?” Netossa is saying. Catra glances in their direction once more. Spinnerella is standing up, carrying her mug in one hand.

“Of course, dear,” she says, grabbing Netossa’s mug as well. Netossa smiles up at her, and Spinnerella leans down, kissing her briefly before heading off across the room. Netossa watches Spinnerella walk away, a soft smile on her face, and oh.

_Oh_.

_That_ is the thing that lives in Catra’s chest. That is the thing that reaches out for Adora every time she sees her. That is the feeling of _wanting_ that Catra has never been able to name. That is _what_ she wants.

That is love.

Catra loves Adora.

With her head floating in the clouds, Catra walks towards the doors out of the dining hall. She pushes through the doors, steps out into the hallway, and almost runs straight into Adora.

“Catra!” Adora catches her by the arms, narrowly preventing their collision. “Hey, slow down a little.” Adora is grinning, grey-blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight that streams through the windows lining the corridor. Catra can’t look away. “Hey, Catra,” Adora says after a moment, her amused grin slipping into a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Catra says, and suddenly realizes she’s been staring for a solid fifteen seconds. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.” She takes a step back, pulling herself out of Adora’s grasp. She can’t handle that touch right now, can’t handle Adora looking at her with such soft worry. Now that she’s named the want in her chest, it’s so much more powerful. It _pulls_ , like the magnets Rogelio had stolen from a science lab when they were seven, tugging Catra towards Adora. “What are you doing here?” Catra asks, taking another step backwards.

“Looking for you, duh,” Adora says. She’s smiling again, small and soft. “I missed you.” _Fuck_. Catra can’t—she can’t do this. Not _now_. Not after two months of watching Adora drift further and further away from her, not _knowing_ the whole time why the distance made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Yeah,” Catra says. “I’ll—whatever.” She tries to step past Adora and walk away, but Adora catches her by the arm.

“Hey,” Adora says, frowning. “What’s going on?” Catra can’t work up the strength to pull away from Adora’s touch again.

“It’s nothing,” Catra says, fixing her gaze on the wall over Adora’s shoulder. “It’s nothing important, Adora. I’ll—I’ll get over it.” Adora stares at her like she’s trying to read Catra’s mind. “ _Please_ ,” Catra says after a moment, eyes flicking back to Adora’s. “Please just let it go.”

“…Okay,” Adora says. “If you’re sure.” Catra nods. She’s sure. Adora releases her arm, and for a moment, Catra thinks she’s escaped. She’s already planning to climb the castle’s highest tower and be alone for awhile to plan out how to get over Adora—because she _needs_ to get over Adora.

Adora doesn’t love her. Looking back, there were moments in the woods where maybe…but no. Adora chose Bright Moon over the woods. She chose her new friends over Catra. She doesn’t love Catra, not in the same way.

“So, you wanna go on an adventure?” Adora asks, throwing an arm around Catra’s shoulders and walking them both back up the hall, away from the dining room. Catra leans into the contact and hates herself for it. “I want to go back into the woods today.”

“Okay,” Catra agrees. What else is she going to do? Say no to _Adora_?

* * *

“Are you sure you know how to find this place?” Glimmer says.

“I’m sure,” Adora says, firmly ignoring the fact that they’ve been searching the woods for three hours. Bow makes a quiet, skeptical noise from behind her, but he’s too nice to actually call out her bullshit. That’s Catra’s job, normally, and Catra…

Catra is being quiet. It freaks Adora out. She’s seemed off all day, since Adora found her in the hallway, but after they met Bow and Glimmer at the castle gates to head into the woods, she’s gone absolutely silent. She’s staying at the back of the group behind Bow, and Adora knows it probably isn’t in an effort to avoid her, but it _feels_ that way.

“Isn’t that the same tree we’ve passed four times?” Bow asks. Adora groans loudly and turns around, throwing her arms up in surrender.

“You lead then!” she says. Bow takes a step back, visibly surprised, and Adora tones down the frustration. “Sorry,” she says, lowering her hands and taking a deep breath. “I just—I thought it was around here somewhere. Even if the woods moved, they shouldn’t have moved _that_ much.”

“I don’t think the woods want us to find it.” It’s the first sentence Catra has spoken since they left the castle. Adora frowns at her, confused. “Think about it,” Catra says. “The first time we found the—tower or whatever it is, it was in a clearing that wasn’t there before. The woods hadn’t moved, the tower just…appeared. I think whatever magic is in that place is hiding it from us.”

“That…makes sense, actually.” Adora sits down on a tree stump, defeated. “What do we do?”

“Go home?” Catra suggests.

“I don’t know,” Bow says, joining Adora on the tree stump. “You said some old lady led you to it in the first place? Maybe we need to find her first.”

“I doubt it,” Catra says. “She was just some crazy old hermit.” Adora glances over at Catra, frowning. She knows that isn’t how Catra thinks of Razz. They were both fond of the old woman in the woods. Regardless…

“I don’t think we need to find her,” Adora says. “That place wasn’t about her. She said _I_ needed to go in. And I could sense something in that place…” She shakes her head. She doesn’t like thinking about her memories of the crystal tower. She’d been in there for a few short minutes, and Catra had almost been taken from her. “Whatever’s in there, it’s for me,” Adora says aloud.

“So maybe you need to be the one to find it,” Glimmer says. “Maybe if you search alone—“

“Absolutely not.” Glimmer, Adora, and Bow all look over at Catra. She has her arms crossed, her tail lashing agitatedly.

“Glimmer might be right,” Adora says.

“ _No_.” Catra glares down at Adora. “You’re not going in there alone, Adora. I won’t let you.”

“Catra—“ Catra growls, cutting off Adora’s words, and whirls around, taking several steps away. Adora frowns at her back, confused and concerned. Glimmer and Bow give Adora questioning looks, as they usually do when Catra acts unpredictably, but Adora doesn’t have an explanation for them this time. She has no idea what’s going on in her best friend’s head.

“It might be the best option,” Glimmer says to Adora. She’s trying to be quiet, but Adora knows that Catra can hear. “We’re not getting anywhere out here.”

“No,” Adora admits. “We’re not.” She’s still looking at Catra, almost ten feet away. Catra is unbelievably tense. It would be invisible to anyone else, but Adora _knows_ Catra. Catra is standing stiff, straight, her feet firmly planted on the ground, lacking all of her usual grace and fluidity. Adora wishes Catra would just tell her what’s going on. It’s clear that _something’s_ wrong, and Adora would help her in a heartbeat if she could.

_Stars, I would do_ anything _for her_.

“Uh,” Bow says from beside Adora on the tree stump. “We could try following the big white glow?” Adora turns, looking off to the side where Bow is staring.

There is, in fact, a glowing white light coming through the trees.

“…Right,” Adora says. “We could try that.” She stands and starts walking through the trees again, heading for the light. Her friends fall into step behind her, and Adora nearly reaches out to her left to hold Catra’s hand before remembering that she isn’t there. Catra is at the back of the group again, walking with her eyes down. Adora grits her teeth against the twinge of pain in her chest, the way her insides try to reach out to Catra. She can’t think about that right now. Whatever’s through the trees might have answers, might tell her how she brought Catra back—and if she knows that, she can recreate it.

Adora walks around one final tree and into a clearing. On the far side, there’s a mass of vines, grown into knots. At their center, wrapped in vegetation, is a sword—a blue-bladed sword with a jewel in its crossguard that’s flooding the clearing with white light.

“Whoa,” Bow whispers as the rest of the group filters into the clearing. “What _is_ that?” Adora doesn’t know, but her palms itch, calling out for the hilt of the sword.

“Mine,” Adora says. “It’s mine.” She doesn’t mean to speak the thought, but the moment she says it, she knows it’s true. The sword belongs to her. She walks forward, eyes fixed on the jewel above the blade. It pulls her in, and before she knows it, she has her hands wrapped around the hilt of the sword.

White light flashes across the clearing, brighter than it was before. Adora shuts her eyes against it, and is immediately struck with her memories of the crystal tower, closing her eyes while she pleaded for Catra to come back. It’s the same light now, pouring out of the sword, and it’s only getting brighter.

“Adora!” That’s Catra’s voice, shouting from across the clearing, sounding panicked. Adora opens her eyes, and the light gets so bright that it hurts. Catra’s voice fades. The sounds of the forest fade. Adora squints against the light, but can’t make out her surroundings—just bright, bright colors, everywhere.

“ _Adora_ ,” a voice says. Adora tries to spin around, look for its source, but she can’t move. “ _Adora_.”

“Who are you?” Adora’s voice still works, even if it’s shaky and scared. “Where am I?”

“ _Will you fight, Adora_?” the voice asks. It’s joined by a shape, now, somewhere in front of Adora. “ _Will you bring balance to Etheria_?” The shape is humanoid, tall, glowing purple.

“I don’t know what you _mean_ ,” Adora says. “What balance? Who do I have to fight?”

“ _It is your duty_ ,” the voice says, “ _to bring balance. Will you accept your duty and fight for the honor of Grayskull_?”

“I don’t understand,” Adora says. “What is my duty? What is Grayskull?”

“ _Adora_ ,” the shape says. It looks like a person, now—a human woman, wearing robes of a style unfamiliar to Adora. “ _Adora. Adora. Adora. Adora. Ado—_ “

“—ra! Wake _up_!”

The woman is gone. The light is gone. Adora’s head is pounding, but she can move again. Slowly, she opens her eyes.

“There you are,” Catra says, half-glaring at her and half-crying. “ _Fuck_ , Adora, don’t do that to me again.” She leans down, pressing her forehead against at Adora’s, and Adora realizes that she’s lying on the ground, head and shoulders in Catra’s lap.

“What happened?” Adora whispers, closing her eyes and focusing on Catra’s closeness.

“You touched the sword,” Glimmer says from somewhere else in the clearing. Adora can’t bring herself to tear enough attention away from Catra to look for her. “There was this light, and then you just passed out. You were only out for, like, a minute, though.”

“It was scary,” Catra says as she pulls back. Adora grins up at her, firmly covering the part of her that wants to stay in Catra’s arms forever with a joke.

“Aw, were you _worried_ about me?” she asks. Catra rolls her eyes.

“ _Yes_ , you idiot,” she says. She kisses Adora’s forehead, and for a moment, Adora’s brain shuts down. Then Catra is shifting, trying to stand, and Adora sits up so quickly that she narrowly misses slamming their heads together. Catra gives her a weird look, but offers her a hand up. The moment Adora is on her feet, Catra’s hand slips out of hers. It makes Adora ache. Instead of reaching for Catra again, she picks up the sword, which has lost its glow by now, and doesn’t send her into another vision the moment she touches it.

“So?” Bow asks. “What happened to you, Adora?”

A low hissing noise emanates from the forest behind him.

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ sake,” Catra says. Out of the trees come the forelimbs of a giant insect, like the one that had chased Adora on her first night in the woods.

“I can teleport us out,” Glimmer says, setting one hand on Adora’s shoulder and the other on Bow’s.

“You’ve never teleported four people before!” Bow’s voice goes squeaky at the end as the insect drags its head into the small clearing, compound eyes glaring down at them.

“I can _try_!” Glimmer says. “What else are we supposed to do!?”

“I can kill it,” Catra says, sounding almost bored. “These guys are just annoying.”

“Are you _crazy_?” Bow asks. He whips his head around to stare imploringly at Adora. “Please tell her she’s crazy!”

“Uh…” Adora is mesmerized, watching Catra unsheathe and inspect her claws. “She…actually did kill a few of them while we were living in the woods.” Adora glances over at the insect, which seems to be deciding which of them to eat first. “But that one is extra big.”

“Whatever,” Catra says. “I’ve got it.” She leaps. She’s aiming for the monster’s eyes, which is a move that always worked against the insects before.

The creature spits a glob of viscous green liquid that hits Catra right in the chest and splatters across her body. It impacts her with enough momentum to send her tumbling to the ground. She hits the ground on her side, hard enough that Adora hears the _thump_ from across the clearing.

“ _Catra_!” Adora darts forward, avoiding Bow’s attempt to reach out and stop her, and sprints to Catra’s side. “Are you okay?”

“ _Gross_ ,” Catra says, clawing at the green goo. “It doesn’t even hurt, it’s just… _sticky_.”

“Adora! Look out!” Bow shouts from across the clearing. Adora looks up. The insect is bearing down on them, its mouthparts gnashing in excitement. She doesn’t have time to get away, not unless she leaves Catra to die.

She is _not_ letting Catra die. Not again.

Adora raises the sword, gripping the hilt with both hands, and the motion tugs at something in her brain—some buried instinct, a long-forgotten memory. Adora lets it take over, lets the feeling guide her through words that she’s never spoken in her life, but feel intimately familiar.

“For the honor of Grayskull!” Adora shouts. The light comes back, and she _changes_.

* * *

The blaze of light hurts Catra’s eyes. She squints against it, trying to find Adora’s shape in the fading glow.

Standing in Adora’s place is…Catra doesn’t know. The woman is taller and more muscular than Adora, and stands firmly with an air of _power_ that Catra has never seen before. She glows, and her hair—a slightly brighter blonde than Adora’s—floats on a nonexistent breeze. She glances over her shoulder at Catra, and she _almost_ looks like Adora, but her eyes aren’t quite the right shape, and they glow a deeper blue than Adora’s have ever been.

Catra can hardly blame the insect for freezing in its tracks and cowering before her.

Not-quite-Adora steps forward, raising the sword. She doesn’t attack the insect. She doesn’t need to. It turns and runs back into the forest, vanishing into the trees.

“…Wow,” Catra hears Bow say from behind her, which pretty much sums up her own thoughts, as well. Not-Adora lowers the sword and turns around to look at them. She gives them a goofy grin, and that’s _all_ Adora, all the way through.

“What?” Not-Adora asks. Even her voice is different. Not in any concrete way, not deeper or altered in tone, but…firmer, somehow. “Why are you all staring at me?”

“Uh,” Catra says, and gives up. She doesn’t have a coherent thought right now.

“You’re all _glowy_ ,” Glimmer says. “Why are you glowy?”

“What are you—“ Adora looks down. “Aaahh!” She shrieks and drops the sword, grabbing at her clothes. “What am I _wearing_?” She touches her head. “ _Why do I have a tiara_?”

“I have an idea,” Bow says. All three of them turn to stare at him in unison. Adora—not-Adora? Catra has no idea—strides across the clearing towards him, and Catra takes a moment to realize _just how tall_ she is now.

“Please,” Adora says, grabbing Bow’s shoulders. “ _Please_ tell me what’s going on!”

“Okay!” Bow leans back in Adora’s grasp, visibly intimidated. “Do you guys know anything about the lore of She-Ra?”

“You’re _joking_ ,” Glimmer says.

“It fits!” Bow says, looking over at her. “Magic sword, white and gold outfit, the wildlife bowing to her. And she healed Catra! Magic healing powers!”

“Okay, sure,” Glimmer says, rolling her eyes. “But She-Ra is a _myth_. She isn’t _real_.”

“She’s mythologized, yeah, but a lot of the stories have a historic basis,” Bow says. “My dads think—I mean, uh, _some scholars say_ that she really existed!”

“You can’t be suggesting that _Adora_ is, like, the reincarnation of She-Ra or something,” Glimmer says. “That’s _ridiculous_.”

“Hey,” Catra says. She pulls herself off the ground and stands, wincing at the ache in her shoulder and ribs. She had hit the ground _really_ hard. “Mind telling me and Adora what the _fuck_ is going on?”

“Right, sorry,” Bow says. “She-Ra is a legendary warrior, the Princess of Power. She was supposedly, like, a guardian of Etheria, who kept people safe and stopped conflicts and such. She was supposed to be able to heal, too.” He glances at Catra. “But the last stories of her take place a thousand years ago. Most people these days think she’s a myth.”

“No,” Adora says, sounding less like herself again. Catra looks over at her. Adora is examining the sword, frowning thoughtfully. “No, I think…that feels right. She-Ra.” She looks up. “What else could I be? I brought Catra back from—I healed Catra.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it,” Catra says. “I died. You brought me back.” She looks over at Bow and Glimmer. “Does She-Ra have that kind of power?”

“Uh…” Bow clears his throat. “I—I don’t know. But I don’t think anybody else does.”

“Okay,” Catra says. “So we figured that out.” She looks back over at Adora. Adora is looking at her with the soft, almost pitying look that she gets every time she’s reminded that Catra died. Catra already doesn’t like that look, and it looks _wrong_ stretched out over She-Ra’s features. “Can you change back?” Catra says, gesturing up and down at Adora. “This is…freaky.”

“Oh,” Adora says, looking down at herself and seemingly noticing her shift for the second time. “I can try.” She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the glow around her body grows stronger. Then She-Ra fades, disappearing into the air, and leaves Adora behind. Catra is glad for it. She-Ra had made her feel…small. Not just in stature, but _insignificant_. She hadn’t liked the feeling.

“So what now?” Catra asks, looking around their small group. “What do we do?”

“I guess I keep the sword,” Adora says, frowning, “and try to learn more about She-Ra, and figure out who I am.”

“I have another idea,” Glimmer says. She’s looking at Adora with a scheming expression that Catra doesn’t like. “If you really are She-Ra, or even if you aren’t, the Rebellion could use an eight-foot-tall lady with a sword. You could join the war effort and fight the Horde.” Adora hesitates. She looks over at Catra, as if looking for an answer.

Catra doesn’t have one. She isn’t interested in war anymore.

“Please?” Glimmer says, drawing Adora’s attention again. “I know the Horde hurt you both. You left for a reason. You could stop them from hurting anyone else! You could make sure no one else ever gets raised the way you were.” Catra looks down at the ground. She can feel Adora’s eyes on her, searching for the right answer.

Finally, Adora says, “Okay. I’ll join the Rebellion. Catra, what about you?”

“Nah,” Catra says. Her voice doesn’t shake. She’s proud of that. “You go fight, _princess_. I’m not interested. Besides, I’m not magic. The Rebellion doesn’t need me.” She doesn’t look up as she speaks. She knows that if she meets Adora’s eyes, she’ll break, and she’s _sick_ of doing that. Stars, she’s known she’s in love with Adora for four hours, and she’s already sick of being so _weak_.

“Okay,” Adora says. She sounds disappointed, like she expected better from Catra. Catra doesn’t have any better to give her.

Adora was always the better soldier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there ya have it! i know the premise of this fic is "catra and adora are gay in the woods" and they are no longer in the woods, but y'all got three chapters of gay woods material, so hopefully that's enough kjsahdgklas. i'm on tumblr @daisys-quake and on twitter @thoughtsintoink; come yell at me either place. leave a comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the last chapter!! it is technically july 1st but it's barely past midnight here so i'm gonna count it as meeting my goal and finishing this fic before july. idk how much i Love this chapter, because it is rushed, as all of this fic is, but given that i wrote half of it in the past two hours, i'll take it. i like it a lot. i'm actually really proud of myself, tbh. i wrote this whole fic in less than two weeks. that's more productive than i've been since, like, fifth grade.
> 
> the response to this fic has been really amazing! you guys have been so kind with your comments. it means a lot.
> 
> anyways. this is the chapter of people having conversations. i guess it balances out the first chapter being all action scenes, if this one is all extended conversations about feelings. hope it feels like the payoff you guys deserve!

Adora’s on her fifth bot when she starts to have problems.

The clearing she’s fighting in is small, and she’s so much _bigger_ as She-Ra. She hasn’t gotten used to being eight feet tall yet—she had barely gotten used to being more than five after her last growth spurt—even though it’s been almost five months since she found the sword. She doesn’t know how to use the space in the same way as she would in her own body.

The first three bots come one at a time through the trees, and they’re easy enough to take down. Adora turns her sword into a shield and kills two with their own energy blasts. She rips off another’s legs with her bare hands and smashes its control panel into dust with the pommel of her sword. Then the fourth and fifth bots march into the clearing.

Adora tries to turn her sword into a rope, planning to grab one bot and swing it into the other. Her sword misinterprets her line of thought and turns into some kind of string instrument.

“Oh, for _fuck’s_ —“ Adora throws herself to the side, narrowly avoiding getting her face burnt off with an energy blast. She throws the… _whatever_ kind of instrument it is at the bot. It does leave a dent in the bot’s metal exterior, but falls to the ground without causing any real damage. The bots click and clatter as they move, undeterred by the projectile, and close in on Adora. She scoops her useless sword up and stumbles backwards, considering for a moment—though not seriously—just running away. Then her back hits a tree, and the bots close in from either side, effectively pinning her.

There’s a loud, metallic, _thump_ ing noise. Adora looks up, and there’s Catra, perched on a bot’s back. She grins down at Adora, a hint of predation in her smile that reminds Adora of watching Catra hunt, back when they lived in the woods. Unbidden, Adora shivers, despite the moderate warmth of spring in the Whispering Woods.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra says. The bot bucks beneath her. Catra stays on its back easily, that easy grin not slipping in the slightest. She raises one clawed hand and brings it down on the front of the bot. She peels back the metal shell with ease. Beneath it lies the control panel. She drags her claws across it, leaving sparks in her wake, and the bot collapses to the ground.

“Catra,” Adora says. She’s about to chastise Catra for being here in the first place when she notices the other bot’s energy cannon beginning to glow—and it isn’t pointed at Adora anymore. “Catra!” This time, the sword shifts exactly as Adora intends it—from an instrument into a rope.

“What—“ Catra begins. Adora throws the rope and thanks the stars that she meets her mark. The loop at the end of the rope falls around Catra’s midsection, and Adora yanks backwards just as the second bot fires.

With a yelp, Catra is pulled through the air. Green energy shoots through the place she was less than a second ago, but Catra is safe. Adora catches her easily. Her arms wrap around Catra’s waist, and Catra latches onto her with all four limbs—arms around her neck, legs around Adora’s hips.

“Uh,” Adora says, staring at Catra’s _very very close_ face. “Hi.” Catra’s eyes flash with an unreadable expression, and she pushes herself away from Adora, dropping to the ground.

Around them, the simulation melts. The trees fade and disappear. The Horde bots turn back into cheap imitations, and the surviving one shuts off with a quiet hiss. The two of them are left standing in the main room of the Crystal Castle.

“ _Unauthorized presence detected_ ,” a familiar, robotic voice says. Catra stiffens, the fur on her tail standing up. Adora just sighs.

“Leave her alone, Light Hope,” she calls. After a moment, the hologram woman appears. If Adora didn’t know better, she’d say Light Hope looks annoyed.

“ _Your…friend is not authorized to be here_ ,” she says.

“I’m authorizing her,” Adora says. Light Hope says nothing, but doesn’t push the issue. Instead, she fades into the air once more—although Adora is sure that she’s still watching.

“What are you doing here?” Adora asks, turning to Catra. “How’d you even get in?”

“Clawed a hole in a wall,” Catra says nonchalantly. “I’m here looking for you.” Adora frowns.

“Why?” she says. “Does the Rebellion need me for something?” She can’t imagine _what_. Angella has barred her from combat until she’s eighteen, insisting that she be both fully trained and an adult before fighting in the war. Adora and Glimmer have both been pushing her on the issue for months, to no avail.

Catra’s playful expression cracks for a moment, and she says, “Is _that_ the only thing that could drag you out of here?” Adora blinks.

“What?” she asks, feeling like she’s missing something.

“Nothing,” Catra says. Her tail lashes like it does when she’s angry, but her face reveals nothing. Adora doesn’t know when Catra got so good at lying to her. “You’ve been out here for a week, that’s all. I was…” She crosses her arms, looking away. “I was getting worried about you.” That, too, is different. They’ve always given each other shit for being sappy, but lately, it seems like it _pains_ Catra to admit that she cares about Adora.

“A week?” Adora asks, frowning deeply. “That can’t be right. I haven’t eaten or slept since I got here.” She can go three days without rest—or at least, she could a few years ago, the last time the Horde kept all the cadets awake until they collapsed. But she doesn’t even feel _tired_ right now.

“ _The magic of the Crystal Castle can sustain She-Ra indefinitely_ ,” Light Hope says, suddenly reappearing (and confirming Adora’s suspicions that they’re being spied upon). “ _It is intended for She-Ra to be able to train without interruption._ ” She looks over at Catra, who seems to be attempting to intimidate the hologram.

“I didn’t realize it had been so long,” Adora says, ignoring Light Hope and Catra’s staring contest. “I would’ve come home sooner if I had.”

“Yeah, well.” Catra looks back over at Adora. “You’re okay, and that’s what I came to find out, so…I guess I’ll leave now.” She uncrosses her arms, and begins to walk away. Suddenly, Adora is desperate to keep Catra near her, for a few more minutes at least. Catra is so distant these days, has been for months. She doesn’t sleep in Adora’s bed anymore. Half the days Adora spends in Bright Moon, she doesn’t even _see_ her best friend.

“I’ll walk you out,” Adora says, hurrying to catch up. Catra gives her a weird look, but doesn’t protest as Adora falls into step beside her. Adora feels the urge to reach out and hold Catra’s hand, but it isn’t automatic anymore. The muscle memory of doing so is gone, leaving only the actual memory, which Adora replays in her mind instead of touching Catra in real life.

“So,” Adora says as they make their way to the long hallway that leads to the front doors. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to come back to this place. Since…”

“I died here?” Catra shrugs. “Doesn’t bother _you_.”

“I—what?” Adora frowns. “Of course it does. The first time I met Light Hope I yelled at her about it for twenty minutes. You know that.”

“And now you let her throw bots at you,” Catra says. Her tone is pointed, but Adora is…missing the point. She had been angry at Light Hope. She still is, sort of. But the world needs She-Ra, and no one else can train her.

They walk in silence the rest of the way to the doors. Adora aches with the quiet. It isn’t the comfortable silence they had found in the woods. It isn’t holding each other closely on quiet winter mornings in the cave, counting each other’s breaths and dozing until the moons rose high enough to make getting up worth it. It’s _silence_. It’s a solid wall that Catra has constructed between them—and that Adora is too afraid to try to knock down.

“So, I’ll see you back at the castle, I guess,” Adora says, stopping right before the doors. Catra nods, not meeting Adora’s eyes. “I…can I hug you?” That makes Catra look up and give Adora a weird look.

“Since when do you _ask_?” Catra says, half-smiling. Adora feels herself turn pink and shrugs uncomfortably.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I just—felt like I should, I guess?” She doesn’t know where their boundaries are anymore. Catra won’t tell her.

“You don’t need to, you dork,” Catra says, rolling her eyes as she steps forward. Adora slips her arms around Catra’s shoulders, and Catra slides hers around Adora’s waist. Adora closes her eyes and inhales, and for a moment, she can pretend that everything is as it was. With Catra’s head tucked under her chin, it’s just another day in the woods, holding each other because they can.

Catra pulls back. Adora takes a moment to recover, eyes still half-lidded and head floating. Catra doesn’t comment on it, although Adora’s sure she looks like an idiot.

“I’ll see you later,” Catra murmurs. Adora is too dizzied to think of a reply. Catra doesn’t wait for one; she turns and pushes one of the crystal doors open. Her tail brushes over Adora’s wrist as she steps outside and disappears.

Adora stares at the door for a long while after it closes, wondering when touching Catra went from being an everyday activity to being so overwhelming in its rarity that it stops her from thinking.

* * *

_I shouldn’t have come_. That’s all Catra can think as she makes her way back towards Bright Moon, away from the Crystal Castle and Adora. She shouldn’t have come out here. She shouldn’t have worried so much, she shouldn’t have gone into the Castle, she shouldn’t have let so much slip when she was talking to Adora, _she shouldn’t have let Adora hug her_.

Catra has _almost_ gotten over it so many times. She’ll think she’s finally done it, finally stomped out the ache in her chest, finally severed the bonds that tie her to Adora, and then Adora will do a _stupid_ thing like ask to hug her, and Catra will do a _stupid_ thing like say _yes_. And then Catra ends up right back where she started, where she is now: wishing with everything inside her that Adora felt the same.

Catra hisses at nothing as she feels tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. She’s so fucking _sick_ of crying over Adora. It’s all she fucking does with her time anymore. Think about Adora, wish she was sleeping in Adora’s bed, wander the outskirts of the woods to get away from Adora, cry over Adora, Adora, Adora, _Adora_. It’s _sickening_.

Catra is half-running through the woods, barely paying attention to where she’s going. She’s probably ruining her fancy Bright Moon clothes. She doesn’t care. She hates them anyway, and she enjoys the irritated look that Glimmer gets when Catra ruins things. It’s only when the trees begin to thin that Catra checks in with her surroundings again, and quickly stumbles to a stop upon realizing where she is.

Razz’s house.

Catra leans against a tree to catch her breath, and uses the time to try to sort out how to feel. Razz had fed Catra and Adora for months. She had let them steal her food, even made extra _for_ them, and had never even tried to greet them. She had picked up on the fact that they didn’t want to talk, and had never tried to make them. Without ever meeting them, Razz had been kind to them.

Razz had also sent Catra to her death. _She_ was the one who led them to the Crystal Castle that day. She was the one who told Adora to go in. She had tried to tell Catra not to, sure, but she had led them to an incredibly dangerous place and abandoned them there without explaining _anything_.

Catra doesn’t know how much of that she can forgive, whether Razz is crazy or not. It’s not like she’ll get another chance to find out, though. They’ve tried to find the house before, but it’s been hidden since that last day in the forest. Catra isn’t sure if it’s Razz’s magic or the forest’s hiding the house.

Either way, Catra’s here now, and she can smell pie.

Hesitantly, she makes her way into the clearing. The house is just as she remembers it—curtains in the windows, birds chirping by the door, the scent of cooking wafting out into the forest. Catra approaches the front door, heart in her throat. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous. Her hand shakes as she knocks on the door. It flies open almost immediately.

“Catra, dearie!” Razz says, smiling up at her. “Come in, come in!”

“…Okay,” Catra says, uncertain. She steps into the house and closes the door behind her. “Were you, like, expecting me?”

“You’re just in time,” Razz says, walking off into the kitchen. She either doesn’t hear Catra’s question or doesn’t care to answer it. “The pie is cool enough to eat! Let me get you a piece.” Catra’s mouth waters. She’s tried all kinds of sweets at Bright Moon—pastries, cakes, cookies, pies, something called ice cream that Catra doesn’t care for but that Adora is positively addicted to. None of it was ever quite as good as Razz’s pies.

“Sure,” Catra says—not that Razz has waited for her agreement. Catra takes a seat at the kitchen table, staying on the edge of her chair. She isn’t even sure what she’s doing here, yet.

Razz returns from the kitchen with a generous slice of pie on a plate and a fork. She sets both down in front of Catra and sits opposite her, on the other side of the table.

“Um,” Catra says. “Thanks, I guess.” Razz beams at her. Catra eats in silence. The pie is a visceral reminder of the best days in the woods, when Catra would catch the red birds Adora liked and steal a pie for lunch. They would sit in the tops of the trees by the cave and watch the moons move, talking and laughing or just _being_ with each other.

Razz watches her eat. That should drive Catra insane, but the old woman is so _gentle_ about the whole thing. She watches Catra with something bordering on pride, and by the time Catra’s finished eating, whatever lingering anger she held has vanished. The only thing she has left is questions.

“Hey, Razz?” Catra says, pushing her plate away. “Why did you take us to the Crystal Castle that day?” Razz’s smile disappears for the first time since she opened the door.

“It was time,” Razz says. “Adora must learn who she is, and to do that, she needed the Castle.” Catra flexes her claws absently, turning the answer over in her mind. It’s cryptic nonsense, of course, but she figures she can’t expect much else from a crazy old lady in the woods.

“I died,” Catra says. “In the Castle. It hurt.” Razz stares down at the table.

“Yes,” she says sadly. “That is always the worst part.” She lifts one shoulder, a terribly resigned look on her face. “I ask you to follow me, to stay safe, and you follow Adora instead. Always, you follow Adora.”

“You’re talking like this has happened before,” Catra says. Razz doesn’t answer, but Catra is starting to put the pieces together anyway. She’s read about seers in a book on magic that she found in the Bright Moon library. Razz knows things—Adora’s name, Catra’s name, the location of the Crystal Castle, the fact that Adora is connected to it. Maybe she’s not a seer, exactly, but there’s something magical going on here. Catra doubts she’ll get an explanation of it all from Razz. She seems like the magic fried her brain a long time ago.

“It always happens,” Razz says, looking up at Catra. “And I am always sorry.”

“Why?” Catra asks, desperation welling up inside her, seemingly from nowhere. “Why _Adora_? Why couldn’t we have just stayed in the woods forever?”

“Etheria needs She-Ra,” Razz says. “The Whispering Woods don’t need Adora.”

“What about _me_?” The tears are coming back now, and Catra is too upset to be ashamed of them. “What about what _I_ need?”

“You need Adora, of course.” Razz reaches out across the table and wipes away the few tears that have escaped. She smiles at Catra. “You belong to her.”

“Belong…” Catra shakes her head. “No, that’s—that’s _bullshit_. Adora doesn’t own me.” She stands up, clenching her hands into fists. “That’s not _fair_. I’m mine. I belong to _me_.”

“Yes,” Razz says. “That, too.” Catra lets out a breath that desperately wants to be a sob. She begins to pace, moving up and down the narrow width of Razz’s kitchen.

“I just—don’t I get a _choice_?” Catra asks. She’s begging now, searching for a way out. “What if I don’t _want_ to need her?” Because she _doesn’t_ , she doesn’t want to need Adora and miss her and dream about waking up in her arms—

“You choose her,” Razz says. “Don’t you? Every time.”

“I—“ Catra stumbles back a step. She’s crying for real now, her breath catching in her chest. “So I’m just supposed to hurt? _That’s_ my destiny? Adora saves the world and I—I just sit back and rot because _Adora doesn’t need me_?”

“You can choose,” Razz says. She sounds as calm as ever, like she’s offering Catra another slice of pie. “You can leave her now, if you want.” Catra _has_ left Adora, to some extent: moving out of her room, avoiding her some days, keeping a distance between them when they speak. Every single step of it has pulled and ached, like another inch of that spider’s fang dragging out of her chest.

“I don’t want to,” Catra whispers. “I—I _choose_ her. I choose Adora.” She chokes on a sob. “ _Fuck_.” Razz stands from the table and walks over to Catra. She doesn’t try to wipe away Catra’s tears again—there’s far too many of them now for that. She just rests a hand on Catra’s arm and smiles gently at her in silence. Catra cries for—she doesn’t know how long. Long enough that her eyes burn and her throat aches and her head pounds in her ears. Eventually, though, she runs out of tears.

“You know how it ends, don’t you?” Catra says when the lump in her throat has receded enough to allow words past. “You know what happens to Adora, and me, and us. How does it end?” Razz stares at her for a long moment.

“Things were better yesterday,” she says finally. “Things will change again.” It isn’t a real answer, but Catra doesn’t have the strength to push for one. She just nods and pretends the words mean something to her. “Do you want some more pie, dearie?” Razz asks.

“No,” Catra says. “I think I’m going to go home, now.”

Razz lets her go. Catra goes back to Bright Moon, to the home she shares with Adora, even as a part of her begs her to stay in the woods.

* * *

Adora is still a bit dazed when she gets back into the main room of the Crystal Castle. She misses Catra so sharply. Adora had held her and missed her still.

“ _Adora_ ,” Light Hope says, appearing out of nothing the moment Adora sets foot in the main room. “ _You must not allow your training to be interrupted_.” Adora winces guiltily.

“I know, Light Hope,” she says. “I didn’t know Catra would come out here. But I sent her home, it isn’t a big deal.”

“ _You are still distracted_ ,” Light Hope says. Adora looks away. It’s true. The ghost of Catra’s warmth against her chest is still floating there, making Adora want to reach for it.

“I’m fine,” Adora says firmly. “I’m not distracted.”

“ _Adora, you must let go_.” Light Hope drifts closer in Adora’s peripheral vision. “ _You must not be held back._ ”

“Let go?” Adora frowns. “What does that mean?”

“ _Etheria needs She-Ra_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _It will need a She-Ra who is fully trained and focused on fulfilling her destiny. You must not allow yourself to become distracted by your attachments_.”

“What…are you saying?” This is starting to sound a _lot_ like one of Shadow Weaver’s lectures. Adora has spent almost two years trying to forget the things she was taught in the Horde. She doesn’t need a refresher from someone who is supposed to be on her side.

“ _You care for Catra_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _You are strongly attached, and it is preventing you from reaching your full potential. You must let go_.” It clicks, and Adora’s heart stops.

“You want me to let go of Catra,” she whispers. “You want me to stop caring.”

“ _You may care about whoever you wish_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _But your relationship with Catra is interfering with your training. The sword doesn’t change when you ask it to, perhaps because you are not thinking about it. You are thinking about her_.”

“But…” Adora shakes her head. “It’s _Catra_. It’s—she’s—I _need_ her.” Light Hope tilts her head, the way she does when she doesn’t understand what Adora is saying.

“ _Your duty is not to your friend_ ,” she says. “ _Your duty is to Etheria_.”

“That’s not—“ Adora stops and takes a few deep breaths, trying to find the right words. She almost never can, when it comes to Catra. So much of what lies between them is beyond the limits of Adora’s vocabulary. “Catra is the reason She-Ra exists at all,” Adora says after a moment. “Without her, I would still be in the Horde.”

“ _Be that as it may_ ,” Light Hope says, somehow making her monotone sound skeptical. “ _Your relationship with her is a distraction that you cannot afford. You are preoccupied frequently, Adora. You could be ahead in your training by months if you stopped spending your time in Bright Moon_.”

“I can’t just _stop_ going home,” Adora says. “Everyone I care about is in Bright Moon, not just Catra. Bow and Glimmer and Angella are there, too.” Light Hope considers that.

“ _The Queen and Princess of Bright Moon will be valuable allies in the future,_ ” she says. “ _Building relationships with them is a productive use of your time. Bow, too, will fight beside you in the Rebellion. They are good choices._ ”

“Thanks, I guess?” Adora says. _Not that I need your permission to have friends_.

“ _Catra, though_ ,” Light Hope says, as if Adora hadn’t spoken, “ _is not a member of the Rebellion. She is not an ally. Your time is wasted on her. She does not matter_.”

“She matters to me,” Adora says. Light Hope just stares at her, uncomprehending. Adora sighs, feeling a headache coming on from the stress of the conversation. “Look, I’m not going to stop caring about Catra. I _can’t_ , and even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“ _You would sacrifice Etheria for one girl you love_?” Light Hope asks.

“What?” Adora takes a step back, feeling a little bit like she’s been punched in the stomach. “No, I…love?”

“ _Your destiny is yours alone, Adora_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _You cannot share it with Catra. Allowing her to stand in your way will cost you the world_.”

“I can’t—“ Adora shakes her head, taking another step backwards. “I don’t want to sacrifice the world. I just—want to keep Catra. Can’t I do both?”

“ _No_.” Light Hope’s expression does not change, but Adora swears her gaze has never been so cold before.

“But that’s not _fair_.” Adora hugs her arms to her chest.

“ _It is your destiny_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _You must bring balance to Etheria, and to do so, you must be—_ “

“Alone?” Adora’s voice trembles.

“ _Without distractions_.”

“I…” Adora pictures it. Letting go. The Crystal Castle becoming her home. Her trips to Bright Moon becoming fewer and further between. Hanging out with Glimmer and Bow and no longer searching for Catra in her peripheral vision. Adora would survive it, she thinks. She would hate it, but she would survive it. _If that’s what it takes to win the war_ …

“How do you know?” Light Hope looks at her blankly. Adora clarifies, “How do you know that Catra, my relationship with her, is what makes the difference between winning and losing the war?”

“ _You would choose her over the fate of Etheria_ ,” Light Hope says. “ _That is dangerous_.” Adora finally drops her arms back to her sides, making her choice. If it comes down to Catra or the world…Adora doesn’t know what she would do. But she can do her best to keep from ever having to make that choice, and that means keeping Catra close, where Adora can protect her.

“Then it’ll be dangerous,” Adora says. “War usually is.”

“ _Adora_.” Light Hope sounds scolding now. “ _You are being irrational. Catra is an unnecessary risk_.”

“She _is_ necessary,” Adora says. “I need her. I always will. If Etheria chose me to be She-Ra, then it chose that. If this is my destiny, then so is Catra.”

“ _We will revisit this another time_ ,” Light Hope says after a long, heavy pause.

“Sure,” Adora says, “but my answer won’t change.” She picks her sword up and transforms it into the wrist guard that she wears it as when she isn’t fighting. “I’m going home now,” she says to Light Hope. “I’ll be back later.”

“ _Adora_ ,” Light Hope says, chastising, but Adora is already walking away.

* * *

Catra turns the corner in Bright Moon and walks straight into Glimmer.

“Whoa!” Glimmer stumbles back a step. “Watch where you’re going!” Catra growls in response and tries to hurry past Glimmer, head ducked down, but Glimmer catches her by the arm. “Hey,” she says. “Are you…okay?” Catra growls again, louder this time, and glares at Glimmer. It isn’t effective—probably because Catra’s eyes are still bloodshot and puffy from crying in Razz’s house.

“Fine,” Catra says. “Now will you let go?” She yanks her arm out of Glimmer’s grasp.

“Clearly you’re not fine,” Glimmer says, following as Catra starts walking up the hallway once more. “You look like you’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”

“Well, right now, there’s an annoying, sparkly _princess_ following me,” Catra says. She speeds up her stride, forcing Glimmer—who’s somehow even shorter than Catra—to jog to keep up.

“Is this about Adora?” Glimmer asks. “You went to find her, didn’t you?”

“Stars, will you leave me _alone_?” Catra shouts, turning to glare at Glimmer once more. “Just—shut up!” Glimmer flinches, then her eyes narrow angrily.

“You don’t have to yell,” she says. “I’m just trying to help. I’m your friend.”

“I don’t have any friends.” Catra turns away, but not before seeing Glimmer’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Glimmer says. “You have friends. Me and Bow and Adora.”

“Adora’s…” Catra doesn’t want to get into it. “It’s different, with her. And _you_ don’t even _know_ me.”

“Because you won’t _let_ me!” Glimmer says. “You disappear all day and eat meals with the servants and get mad when I talk to you. Adora made you sound like the coolest person _ever_ before you woke up. I don’t think I’ve met that Catra yet, but I wanna be _her_ friend.” Catra looks down at the ground, tail lashing with agitation. “Look, do you want to go somewhere else to have this conversation?” Glimmer asks.

“Who says we’re having a conversation?”

“Uh-huh.” Glimmer steps around Catra’s shoulder and into her field of vision. “I know a good place?” Catra sighs. It’s true that she doesn’t spend much time with Glimmer, but in the hours that she has, she’s learned that Glimmer is, somehow, the only person on the planet _more_ stubborn than Catra herself.

“Fine,” Catra says. “Whatever.” Glimmer grins triumphantly and reaches out, setting a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Wait a minute, you’re not going to—“

Catra’s stomach flips over, and they’re outside, at the top of a tower that overlooks all of Bright Moon.

“—teleport us.” Catra’s last two words turn into a groan as she stumbles forward and grabs onto the railing. “I hate you _so_ much.”

“Oh, sorry,” Glimmer says, not sounding sorry at all. “I forgot that you don’t like that.” Catra takes a few deep breaths to settle her stomach and straightens up.

“Whatever,” she says. “Why are we up here, anyway?”

“I like coming up here to think,” Glimmer says. “I like heights. Adora always talks about how great you are at climbing trees, so I figured you must like being high up, too.” It’s…an irritatingly accurate assessment.

“Yeah,” Catra admits. “I do.” She leans against the railing, looking out over the kingdom beneath her. The tower they’re on is towards the back of the castle, and Bright Moon proper stretches out beyond: small houses side-by-side with grand spires—though none as ostentatious as the castle itself—spreading out into the plains beyond. The kingdom as a whole encompasses most of the open grasslands to the east of the Whispering Woods, its borders far beyond the horizon, but Bright Moon is the biggest settlement within the kingdom. Catra hasn’t spent much time in the city. Too many people, after so long being alone.

“So,” Glimmer says after a moment. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Catra sighs.

“I found Adora,” she says. “She was just in the Crystal Castle. Training.”

“Oh.” Glimmer hops up on the railing, sitting down next to where Catra is staring out at the city. “So everything’s okay, then.”

“Not really.” Catra flexes her claws absently. “Why’d you ask her to join the Rebellion, anyway?” She can’t keep the resentment out of her voice, and she doesn’t really try.

“Wait, is _that_ why you don’t like me?” Glimmer asks, sounding shocked.

“You’re also really annoying, but yeah.” Catra glances up at Glimmer. “What, you couldn’t tell?”

“You never _told_ me,” Glimmer says, rolling her eyes. “I figured you were just a bitch.” That makes Catra laugh. “I don’t know, Catra,” Glimmer says. “Why _wouldn’t_ I ask Adora to join the Rebellion? She’s my friend, she’s the reincarnation of a thousand-year-old mythical warrior with magical powers, she doesn’t like the Horde. She’s kinda the perfect fit.”

“But this isn’t her _problem_.” Catra digs her claws into the railing. “None of this shit is her problem. The Horde and the Rebellion and the princesses, it’s all just—we did just fine without it. Alright? She was _happy_ in the woods, with me.” Glimmer opens her mouth to interrupt, but Catra is on a roll now. “And then you came along and—and _convinced_ her that she has to save the fucking world. You and Light Hope and Shadow Weaver and—everyone keeps convincing her that she needs to do other stuff, but it was _good_ when it was just the two of us. Alright? We were happy. It was good. It was so _fucking_ good—“

“Catra,” Glimmer says quietly.

Catra is crying again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Catra hisses. She wipes at her eyes roughly, irritating the already swollen skin around them. “I just—why can’t everyone just leave her _alone_?”

“Catra…” Glimmer sets a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “Adora would’ve joined eventually, anyway. She hasn’t told us much, but I know the Horde hurt you guys, and you’ve seen how much better it is out here. I didn’t have to convince her of anything.” Glimmer’s right. Catra knows it, and it cuts like a knife.

“She would’ve left me, anyway,” Catra whispers, forcing the tears away.

“ _Oh_ ,” Glimmer says as it finally clicks. “Oh. I…I didn’t realize that you…”

“I’m in love with her, Sparkles,” Catra says with a laugh. “You can say it.”

“Yeah.” Glimmer seems to be have been rendered speechless, which is welcome first.

“’S whatever,” Catra says. “Just, y’know, the girl I love and the only person who’s ever cared about me abandoning me in favor of rejoining the war that destroyed our childhoods. No big deal.” _That’s_ definitely more than she meant to reveal, but she can’t bring herself to care at this point. What can Glimmer do with Catra’s deepest secrets? What does Catra have to lose?

“She’s not the only person who cares about you,” Glimmer says. Catra laughs.

“You don’t know shit about the Horde,” she says. “Adora told you we _left_ and that’s why we were in the woods, right? Did she tell you about the bit where the woman who raised us decided I wasn’t worth her time and dropped me in the middle of the woods to die?” Glimmer gasps quietly. “Our commanding officer hated me, the other cadets thought I was a nuisance. Adora was the only one to follow me into the woods because she was the only one who _cared_ if I died. So, gonna make me feel better now?”

“Adora isn’t the only person who cares about you _now_ ,” Glimmer says. “That’s what I’ve been trying to _tell_ you. Me and Bow and my mom all do, too.”

“You don’t know me,” Catra says, shaking her head.

“So _what_?” Glimmer throws her arms up in the air. “Yeah, I don’t know you very well, but I’m choosing to care about you. I don’t know, like, ninety-nine percent of the people who live in Bright Moon, let alone the rest of Etheria. But I _choose_ to care about them every day, when I work with the Rebellion, trying to improve their lives. And I choose to care about _you_ , because Adora’s my friend and she loves you, even if you think she sucks at showing it sometimes.”

“I know she cares,” Catra says, looking away. “It’s not that she doesn’t show it, it’s that—when she left the Horde, she picked me over the war. And now she’s picking the war over me.”

“Only because you’re making it a _choice_ ,” Glimmer says. “She can love you and care about the war at the same time. People can care about more than one thing.”

“I’ve never tried.” Catra stares down at the city and tries to imagine how it would feel to choose to care about every single person in it. How their lives are going, if their children are fed, if they’re happy. It sounds exhausting, and Catra reluctantly feels a spark of respect for Glimmer. “I’ve only ever cared about Adora.”

“Well, how about this?” Glimmer says. “Whenever Adora’s off doing She-Ra stuff, you should hang out with me and Bow. Try being friends with us. We’re a lot of fun, y’know.” Despite herself, Catra smiles.

“Yeah,” she says. “We could give that a try.” Glimmer hops down off the railing and wraps Catra in a hug. Hesitantly, Catra returns it. “I think I’m going to stay up here for awhile,” she says quietly. “But…thanks, Glimmer.”

“What are friends for?” Glimmer asks, stepping back with a grin. “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Catra says, and Glimmer vanishes in a burst of pink sparkles. Barely a moment later, she reappears.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Glimmer says. “You know that Adora’s, like, totally in love with you, too, right?” Catra blinks.

“Uh.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Glimmer says. “ _Damn_. I owe Bow dinner. Anyways, see you!” She disappears again. Catra stares at the spot that she vanished from, completely and thoroughly speechless.

* * *

The moons are setting by the time Adora gets back to Bright Moon.

She spends a few hours in the woods, first. They’re as calming and terrifying as they’ve always been. Too vast for comfort and yet comforting in their enormity. Adora likes feeling like she doesn’t matter for awhile. She’s just one speck. One relatively small, soft, singular organism amongst millions, with no destiny or responsibility. Just one person, wandering the woods, dwarfed by everything around her.

Eventually, though, Adora sets her sights east and walks back to Bright Moon. The moons are drifting low by the time she arrives at the gates of the castle. As always, she looks at the ground as she passes, searching for a trace of Catra’s blood on the earth from their first arrival at Bright Moon. As always, it’s nowhere to be found.

Adora checks her own room first, though it’s a long shot. Catra doesn’t spend much time there anymore. She checks Catra’s room next, which is also empty. She asks the kitchen staff, and learns that Catra hasn’t been by to eat anything since that morning. The training yard is empty, as is the botanical garden. There, amidst the flowers, Adora pauses and thinks about it thoroughly. Back in the Fright Zone, Catra was invariably in the bunks, hiding in the vents, or at their spot at the top of one of the towers, up above the rest of the Fright Zone. Now, their rooms are empty, and Bright Moon doesn’t have a ventilation system that one can crawl through.

Adora turns the sword from a bracelet into a grappling hook and sets out for the tallest tower in the castle.

She scales it as herself, despite the fact that She-Ra could climb it in less than half the time. She measures her breaths and savors the way her muscles burn with every pull. She’d been She-Ra for a week in the Castle. She’d missed being Adora.

Finally, Adora pulls herself up the last few feet and crawls over the edge of the tower onto the top. She collapses face first on the ground, panting for breath. She hasn’t climbed like that in years. Her whole body feels like jelly.

“Hey, Adora,” a familiar voice says from the other side of the rooftop. Adora flops onto her back and turns her head enough to see Catra grinning at her. Despite her inability to move, Adora smiles back.

“Hey,” she says. “Nice place you got here.” Catra laughs, and Adora could _cry_. She loves her so fucking much.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t take the long way,” Catra says, nodding at Adora’s grappling hook. “Glimmer teleported me up here.”

“Cheater.” With a superhuman effort, Adora sits up. “Why’d she take you up here?” Catra shrugs and walks over to Adora. She sits down beside Adora and kicks her legs over the edge of the rooftop, feet dangling over the hundreds-of-feet tall drop to the ground below. Adora scoots forward, dangling her own feet beside Catra’s.

“Some stupid pep talk or something,” Catra says. “What about you? I didn’t think you’d be back any time soon.” Adora sighs as she looks out over the castle beneath them. It’s a nicer view than the Fright Zone, that’s for sure.

“Light Hope…said some things,” she says. “She wanted me to choose, I guess. Between She-Ra and you. She wanted me to let you go, to be She-Ra.” Catra tenses beside her.

“And?” she asks. “What’d you choose?”

“I said no.” Adora leans back on her palms. “I don’t have to choose.” Catra doesn’t relax. “But her asking that made me mad, and I just—I didn’t want to listen to her right now.”

“Hm.” Adora looks over at Catra. She’s staring out past the castle towards the woods to the west, where the moons are just beginning to kiss the horizon.

“Did I…do something?” Adora says after a moment. “There’s…it feels like there’s distance between us, now, that wasn’t there before.”

“It was just us before,” Catra says. “Things are different now. You have other friends. You have a war to fight.”

“Well, yeah, but—“ Adora bites her lip. “I still care about _you_.” Catra hums noncommittally. “Catra, do you…get why I’m fighting in the war?”

“It’s your destiny and all that shit,” Catra says. “Plus, Glimmer’s, like, weirdly convincing.” Adora stares at her. How could she not _understand_?

“That’s not it at all,” Adora says. “I’m fighting for _you_.” _That_ makes Catra turn and look at her.

“I never asked you to,” she says. Adora shakes her head.

“That’s not what I mean,” she says. “It’s…it’s like, you taught me how to care about someone. You know? _That’s_ what I’m trying to protect, what the Horde is fighting to destroy. People caring about each other. Shadow Weaver tried to destroy that in _us_.” She gestures at the castle beneath them. “Everyone down there has someone they love, and you’re mine. So I’m fighting for you.” Catra pulls her knees up to her chest, half-hiding behind them.

“I’m yours,” she echoes. Adora’s chest expands with warmth at hearing the sentiment in Catra’s voice. Adora’s thought it herself a thousand times. She nods. _Catra’s hers_. “But you’re not mine,” Catra continues, looking back down at the castle. “Not really.”

“…What?” Adora whispers. “Of _course_ I’m yours. I always have been.” Catra shakes her head.

“But not in the same way,” she says. “Not like how I mean it.”

“How do _you_ mean it?”

“I mean it like I’m in love with you, Adora,” Catra says, glancing up at her. “That’s how I mean it.”

“Then yeah,” Adora says, a smile breaking across her face. “That’s how I mean it, too.” Catra sits up straight, dropping her knees from her chest.

“You…do?” she asks. Adora nods furiously. “Stars, why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Adora says. “Why didn’t _you_ tell _me_? How long have you felt it?”

“Fuck if I know,” Catra says, shaking her head. “I didn’t tell you because—I just don’t _understand_ how you can love me and care about everything else, too. Glimmer explained it to me, but it’s still…I don’t _get it_.”

“We can work on that,” Adora says. “But, uh, maybe right now we can think of something better to do than talk about Glimmer?” Catra laughs, high and rasping, and shivers run down Adora’s spine.

“Oh, you think you’re smooth, huh,” Catra says, laughter still in her voice. “Been reading the romance novels in the Bright Moon library?”

“Nope,” Adora lies. “Just can’t wait to kiss you.” That part’s not a lie. Catra turns pink, still smiling.

“Well,” she says. “I guess I can help you with that.” She leans in and presses her lips against Adora’s, one hand slipping around to the back of Adora’s neck and the other falling on her thigh. Adora can feel Catra smiling against her lips, and knows she’s doing the same. She cups Catra’s jaw in one hand, short-shorn brown hair brushing against her fingertips. Catra leans into her, and Adora leans right back, wondering how she’s gone sixteen years of her life without this. The setting moons in the distance paint the backs of her eyelids pink.

Finally, Catra pulls away, and Adora lets her smile break out, spreading across her face into a giant, stupid grin. Catra laughs at her, shoving lightly at Adora’s shoulder and leaning into her arms at the same time.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says, then—“Oh. Adora.”

“What?” Adora asks, her smile slipping a bit. “Was that bad? Did I do something wrong?”

“ _No_ , dumbass,” Catra says. “Your eyes. They’re glowing.”

“Oh.” Adora tries to look at herself for a moment before realizing that, _duh_ , she _can’t_. She blames Catra for scrambling her brain. “It’s probably the She-Ra magic. That’s kinda cool, actually. I haven’t done that before. Not without transforming.”

“Huh.” Catra has a proud little smirk on her face. “I’m that good, huh?”

“You are,” Adora says, affection flooding her voice. Catra clearly wasn’t expecting a genuine answer to the joke, and she turns pink.

“Whatever,” she mutters, and leans her head on Adora’s shoulder. Adora just kisses the top of her head, and gets smacked in the nose with an ear for her troubles.

_Worth it_.

They sit like that for awhile, watching the moons set, painting the sky first pink, then red, then dark as night falls. They kiss occasionally, and Adora can’t get the stupid grin off her face, every time Catra pulls back. After the first few times, Catra gives up on mocking her, and just smiles back.

“Hey, Catra?” Adora says finally, after the last of the day’s moonlight has faded from the sky. “Do you wanna go sneak into the kitchens and steal a bunch of cake and eat it in my room?”

“Yes,” Catra says immediately, then pauses. “Wait, is this a trick to get me to sleep over?”

“Uh.” Adora hesitates. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you stayed with me tonight. And—every night. If you want.” Catra leans in and kisses her quickly.

“I’ll stay,” Catra whispers, her forehead pressed against Adora’s, their lips millimeters apart. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Adora kisses her again, unable to resist. “I promise, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there y'all have it! i hope you enjoyed this little journey with me. it could honestly have been a full-length multi-chapter, with all the thoughts i have on this version of catra and adora, but i just don't have time to write one, sadly. i hope i did a good job capturing this lil universe here, abbreviated as this fic may be.
> 
> i will be returning with more spop fic soon! i'm taking a little break to work on my btvs multichapter for nanowrimo (there's already 100k words of it up here, so give that a read if you're interested!) but i have a college au and a mara-centric one-shot both in the works. i'm also always taking prompts over on tumblr! find me @daisys-quake over there, @thoughtsintoink on twitter, and follow me on here if you wanna see what i work on in the future! please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! i'm on tumblr @daisys-quake and on twitter @thoughtsintoink and she-ra is all i talk about right now, so give me a follow if you're interested in seeing more. please leave a comment if you enjoyed, i need that motivation to get the next chapter out quick.


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